Pierced Hearts
by FFcrazy15
Summary: When the Southern king threatens disaster unless Elsa marries Hans, the two grudgingly agree to work together to fool him and save Arendelle. But everyone is keeping secrets, and meanwhile, an ancient enemy has waited centuries for her revenge: to curse the world in endless winter. Slightly religious fic to coincide with the original Snow Queen tale. Chapter 20 is up!
1. Prologue- Part One

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

2nd Disclaimer: Cover Art texture credit goes to _PrincessBubblebutt _on _Deviantart, _or Cynical Romance. com (remove the spaces).

_Once, long, long ago, an angel fell from Heaven._

___It is a story known all throughout the world, one with which we must each day live- and one which affects our story tonight at its core. _ For when the Devil was cast from Heaven and fell to Hell for his pride, he swore to spite God in all he did. You know of the apple, how he made mankind, too, as fallen as he. You know of the Cross, how mankind was redeemed at the greatest price. You know of your own lives, how you have allowed good to triumph on some days… and bad on others.

_ Evil delights in those days when your hearts are cold with bitterness or hot with fury, but do not believe he is content to sit on the sidelines and watch! No, for as subtle as the Devil may be, in his spite he can never be happy, and seeks only to bring unhappiness to all creation, as well. And so one day, oh, many generations ago, Evil created a mirror._

_ This was no ordinary mirror, children; no, this was a lying mirror, an twisted mirror, for it showed only the worst parts of people, never the good. It made all the world as ugly and terrible as its creator. The sweetest of people would look diabolical in its reflection, and the most beautiful of landscapes like scorched, lifeless ground. The Devil was cruelly proud of his terrible invention, and he boasted to his demons that he would bring the mirror to Heaven, to make God Himself look uglier than even the demons._

_ But as Evil tried to ascend to Heaven, from whence he had been cast, he found himself shrieking with agony at the beauty and goodness. The mirror, formed of hatred and bitterness, also could not stand the light and love of which Heaven is composed, and so, as both it and its maker cowered and descended again to darkness, the mirror shattered into a million pieces, and these pieces fell to the earth. Even still today, if you travel to the northern countries, and venture into the woods thereof, you can hear the mountain men sing of the demon mirror._

"_In times long gone,_

_And times long past,_

_The devil's work_

_Created glass_

_Of kind and nature most profane._

_He tried to fly_

_To Heav'n above_

_To shame the Lord_

_But see, for love_

_Was the dreadful mirror's bane._

_So shattered glass._

_And again, both fell,_

_Shards to earth,_

_Devil to Hell._

_Never to meet again._

_But mankind, so cursed_

_By a curse long past_

_Was tormented by_

_The mirror's glass,_

_And to the earth the shards did rain._

_But fear not, men,_

_For curses have no part,_

_Nor power over_

_The pure of heart._

_And love will triumph and ever reign."_

_ These pieces were blown about by the winds, into people's eyes, into their hearts. You may have heard the story of how one of these pieces got stuck into a young boy's eye, and his heart became cold and bitter, and he was taken by the Snow Queen to her palace in the far north. This young boy's dearest friend, a little girl, followed him valiantly to the Snow Queen's lair- braving a sorceress, robbers, and snow monsters, until she found her friend in the Queen's castle. Her tears warmed his heart, and together their innocence, purity and love defeated the Snow Queen's power, and they escaped again to the warm world below._

_ The two children eventually grew up, and they were married. Their marriage was a very happy one, but in all their years together they were never blessed with a family of their own. When the woman, by now aged, heard that the Queen of her kingdom was to have a child, she and her husband went to the castle to offer their services as nursemaid and footman. They vowed to care for the child as their own, and the queen gratefully accepted._

_ The infant was born, a beautiful girl with dark hair like her mother's. The exhausted queen left the girl in her new nursemaid's care, and she took the child to the cradle in the baby's nursery. She did not notice that the window was open, and as she turned away, a strange new woman entered the room through the window, lifted from the ground as if by swirling winter winds._

_ She approached the cradle silently, and the baby shrank back, terrified of the strange white-haired woman, who was dressed like a queen of ice and snow. The strange woman held out a large shard of ice-like glass to the baby, glinting in the light, and the infant began to wail._

_ The nursemaid turned, startled, and saw the strange queen-like woman standing there. She recognized her instantly, for the Snow Queen had not aged a day in all the years since Gerda had seen her. She cried out for her to be gone in the name of God, and the Snow Queen, unable to disobey such an order, was forced to flee once again to her icy lair. But it was too late, for just before Gerda had turned at the child's cry, the vengeful Snow Queen had driven the icy glass shard into the infant's heart._

_ Gerda and Kai brought the baby to the queen and king at once, weeping and begging for their forgiveness. The two monarchs granted it immediately, but they feared for their infant daughter, whose hair had turned white and eyes an icy blue. A truly pure heart would not have been affected by such wickedness in the slightest, and there are few hearts purer than that of a newborn infant, but a curse of the Devil even more ancient still lay on the unchristened child, and so the icy shard remained buried within her. To prevent her from becoming cold and uncaring, as Kai had himself so many years before, the king and queen hastened the girl's baptism, and so it was that while the shard's magic remained a part of her, the greater evil of the curse had no hold over her, and her heart remained kind and good. Kai, Gerda and the bishop vowed, along with the King and Queen, to never tell the child of the true origin of her powers._

_ But the Snow Queen was not through. Ages upon ages she had waited- waited to finish a plan that had begun countless centuries before, and was determined that it should continue, christening or no. And so it was that she appeared in the northern country's neighbor, an island kingdom to the south, and asked for an audience with the king._

_ The king was a harsh man, almost as cruel as the Snow Queen herself, and so when she offered him two shards, one for him and one for his firstborn when the boy came of age, he gratefully accepted. These shards, however, were not of the same sort as the icy shard with which she had pierced the princess. They shone not as jagged ice, but instead glowed as burning embers. The king accepted, and drove into himself the first and largest of the shards. The smaller he placed in a little wooden box, which he hid in his room, to save for his eldest son's twenty-first birthday._

_ But his plan did not go as expected, for of the thirteen princes of the kingdom, the oldest would not be the one to receive the cursed powers. Instead, it was the youngest who found the box before its time._

_ The boy had meant no harm, for he was lonely and had only wanted someone to play with him. At seven years old, he was the youngest of all thirteen of the king's children, and often ignored. He'd gone into his father's room to look for his oldest brother, whom he idolized even though the man of twenty often ignored him, and instead found a small chest full of many treasures. Among these treasures was a surprisingly ordinary little wooden box._

_ He'd opened the box, curious, and stared at the glowing, ember-like glass shard. Even as the king walked into the room, the boy had pulled the shard out of the box._

_ The king screamed in fury, and the boy, startled, jumped up and clutched at his chest, accidentally driving the fiery shard deep into his heart. His brown hair turned deep red, as red as coals, and his chest felt as if it were aflame. The king tried to pull the demon glass out, but the damage was already done. The boy was cursed._

_ The king's hatred, fueled by his own burning shard, turned itself upon the boy, and soon all the court followed suit- especially the eldest brother, who was furious at having his birthright stolen away by the youngest of the brood. The king called to the Snow Queen, who upon arriving became furious that such an accident had occurred. Though she threatened to cover the Southern kingdom with ice, the king convinced her that not all was lost, and the Queen agreed to enchant the boy, to cause him to forget what had happened. Then the king, to ensure that his youngest son would not accidentally rediscover his powers, began to enforce that all the princes wear gloves at all times, as a matter of custom and fashion. And so the boy never did remember, and he never realized that he was different._

_ Perhaps this would have all been alright, were it not for the hatred of everyone around him, for reasons he never understood. This hatred, along with the shard in his chest and the lack of any love from those who should have loved him the most, came to define who he was in every way. He became as bitter and angry as his father before him. Some would say he wanted only power and wealth, but in truth it went much deeper than that. He wanted to be appreciated, valued, honored- all those things with which people try to fill the hole left in their hearts by an absence of love. Perhaps more than anything, he wanted the respect and admiration he knew he would find as a king. When his father died and the eldest brother, still furious with the youngest, took the rule, the boy began to desperately search for a way to win a throne, any throne- in any way he could._

_ When he first arrived in Arendelle six years later, by now twenty himself, the young man sought to marry the eligible queen. Instead, however, the younger princess, driven by loneliness and desperation, fell head over heels for him, and he willingly took advantage of such a 'fortunate' situation. When it was revealed that the queen herself had powers of ice, he was stunned, for even then he did not remember his own hidden abilities. Hatred of the queen, of the beauty she could create (for as the Cross has shown, Heaven can use even the most evil of circumstances to bring about good), desperation for the crown, and jealousy of her loving sibling, a privilege he'd never known, all drove him to try to kill her- not just to take her throne, but to exact revenge for all the hatred with which he had ever been treated, for circumstances he had never realized._

_ And yet, as always, love- pure, true love- defeated evil, and the prince was sent home again in chains, to face the revilement and disgust of his twelve older brothers. But a far greater damage had been done that day in Arendelle, For although neither Hans nor Elsa could have known it, as the two shards came into contact for the first time, and under such conditions, their powers had begun to flare and freeze all the more forcefully, and at last the Snow Queen's plan was finally beginning to come to fruition._

_ But I am getting ahead of myself, for our story starts many years before that point. Do not fret, children, for Good never has and never will be bested by Evil. Listen now, hush, and I will tell you a story- the story of how true love defeated the Snow Queen once and for all._

"_No, fear not, men,_

_For curses have no part,_

_Nor power over_

_The pure of heart._

_And love will triumph and ever reign!"_


	2. Prologue- Part Two

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Hans sighed, bored. He'd read all the kids' books in the library twice already. He was sick of staying in his room, but his oldest three brothers were busy with "matters of state," whatever that meant, and the servants wouldn't want him underfoot. He wasn't silly enough to go to the King; he was always too busy for the youngest of the brood and somehow never happy to see him.

He got up off his bed and went and rummaged about in his toy chest. Toy soldiers, stuffed animals, blocks he hadn't used since he was three…

Then, he found it: the toy wooden sword he'd gotten for his birthday four months ago. He gasped, delighted, and quickly pulled it out. The boy swung the sword around experimentally for a few moments, before he realized it was no fun to play swords without a friend.

But, but, but! He had twelve big brothers! At least one of them would like to play with him, right? Sure, sometimes they could be pretty cold, and they didn't really talk to him much, but hey, he was still their brother, right? And there were a dozen of them; the odds were definitely with him!

Hans hurried out into the hall. "Brothers?" he called, knocking on the nearest door.

"_Do you wanna have a sword fight?_

_C'mon, I promise, it'd be fun!"_ He hurried to the next door.

"_We don't even have to play at all;_

_I just, y'know, wanna talk to someone."_

Nothing. He sighed, disappointed. _"None of you will even speak to me,_

_Like brothers should._

_I wish you would tell me why!_

_Do you wanna have a sword fight?_

_Just one tiny little sword fight?"_

"Go away, Hans!" several of them groaned at once.

He ducked his head, pouting. _"Okay, bye,"_ he said quietly, and walked away.

* * *

"Mama? Why don't my brothers like me?"

The Queen smiled fondly, playing with his red curls of hair. "Why do you think they don't like you?"

"They ignore me, and sometimes they're mean to me... I just want to know what I did, so I can fix it."

She sighed, and to Hans the sigh sounded rather sad. "Sometimes people are cruel to us just because they want to be, Hans; not because we did anything wrong. Your brothers may never be kind to you, but you can always be kind to them." She kissed his forehead. "And I promise you that no matter what, I will always love you."

Hans's face split into a wide, toothy grin, and he threw his arms around her neck. "I love you too, Mama!"

* * *

Eventually the boy began to grow up. The good Queen passed, leaving him at the mercy of his father and brothers. As he got older, the rest of his family only became colder and less likely to pay him any mind. At one point, some of his brothers even began to pretend he was invisible. Not just forgetting about him, neglecting him; instead, they actually refused to acknowledge his existence when he spoke to them. What began as a spiteful joke soon became a matter of course about the castle, and he found- to very little surprise- that his brothers' animosity towards him had extended into deliberate disinterest.

This was never more apparent than the day when a thirteen-year-old Hans hurried up through the halls, the scabbard buckled to his waist swinging slightly as he knocked on the nearest door.

"_Do you wanna have a sword fight?_

_My tutor says I'm getting good!"_ he promised.

"_Or just have a conversation, y'know,"_ he muttered, turning his back to the door.

_I promise, it wouldn't kill you if you would."_

No reply.

_"This is getting sort of old now,"_ he called over his shoulder.

"_This whole 'ignoring' thing._

_You realize two years have gone by?"_

No answer. He sighed and rolled his eyes, walking away.

* * *

Time passed. The king died (an accident, some whispered, but a very strange one at that), and Agnar, the eldest of the thirteen, was crowned. A letter eventually landed on his desk requesting his or his ambassador's presence at the coronation of the new Arendellian Queen. Agnar didn't plan to go, but he didn't want to jeopardize relations with the northern nation, so he passed the task down to the next oldest, Balthazar, who passed it on to the next, and each handed it down in turn until it landed on Hans's relatively empty to-do list.

He immediately saw it as an opportunity. Both Arendellian princesses were said to be beautiful, of marriageable age and- this was the enticing part- the lone heirs to their throne and all that it entailed. So he graciously accepted the invitation and readied to sail for Arendelle.

"See you in a few weeks," one of his brothers jeered as he walked through the front courtyard, heading to leave.

"Not if I can help it," Hans muttered under his breath.

Everything had been going so perfectly. He could even now picture Anna giggling as he brushed her cheek, she accepting his proposal. Even with Elsa's little disruption, he'd managed to play it off. But then, his fatal mistake.

He'd raised the sword high, so filled with rage, so certain that his plan would work, he would be king, and finally, _finally _he would be admired, respected…

But Anna… Anna's hand had shattered his blade and pushed him away from her beloved sister. Love had destroyed his perfect plan. Love.

Even he couldn't miss the irony in that.

Back to the Southern Isles he'd sailed in chains. The guards had shoved him forward before his twelve brothers as they sat around him in counsel.

"It is the unanimous decision of this council," Agnar said, voice cold and cruel, "that, in retribution for the crimes he has committed, including attempted regicide, endangerment the Southern Aisles, shaming the royal family and putting the country at risk of war against Arendelle, the punishment…"

Hans held his breath, face pale.

"…Is death."

The breath he'd been holding escaped him in a silent gasp, stunned. The guards took him by the arms and hauled him out of the room before he could say a word. The last thing he saw was all twelve of his brothers glaring down at him, some smirking, some sneering, but all with that same harsh anger in their eyes that made him realize that after all these years, nothing, absolutely _nothing,_ had changed.

* * *

Now here he was, sitting in a cold, small cell, still dressed in the clothes he'd left Arendelle in, sans the warm woolen overcoat. There was no blanket or mattress on the iron griddle bench on which he sat, and nothing but a bucket of dirty water that served to wash down the meager food he was brought twice a day, when it was brought at all. He could understand why his brothers wouldn't want to waste "valuable resources" on him; after all, he was and always had been scum in their eyes, and besides, why bother caring for a man condemned to death?

He looked up, startled, when he thought he heard a slight nose, and stood, walking over to the door. "Hello?" he said, voice hoarse.

Nothing. He stared at the door, and then sighed. "_I know there's no one out there._

_Don't see why I'm so surprised,"_ he said bitterly.

"_I wonder how long you've waited for this._

_The perfect chance _

_To arrange for my demise."_ He turned to lean his back against the cold iron door.

"_It seems I'm all alone now._

_S'pose I always was._

_What am I going to do?"_ He slid down the door until he was sitting down on the ground, legs curled up to preserve warmth. Silence filled the small cell, and he shook, perhaps more from fear than chill, swallowing hard.

"_Do you want to have a sword fight?"_

He waited, clinging to this last thread of hope. Then, he sighed lowly, leaned his head against the back of the door, and closed his eyes.

And, as always, no one answered.

* * *

**A/N: Hello FanFiction! First, thank you all for reading my story. I'll try to update about once or twice a week, but it may be more or less depending on how busy I am. All my love and prayers to each of you!**


	3. Chapter 1: About a Contract

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Chapter One: About a Contract

* * *

It was not often that the Southern Isles became so bitterly cold. Though harsh winters were well known to all the Nordic countries, the sea-bordered kingdom was not as frigid as its northern neighbors, nor did winter strike so fast or so soon in the Isles as it did in, say, Arendelle. Thus it was that when, in only mid-October a year following what had come to be known as "The Great Freeze," a cold, fierce wind blew through streets of the capitol town, those unfortunate enough to be outside (mainly the homeless, and there were many of them, ragged, haggard men and women with faces older than their ages and a gnawing hunger in their bellies) pulled their hands in close against the biting chill and wondered at the sudden cold.

The icy wind, carrying with it many snowflakes, swirled around the castle of the Southern Isles, before concentrating in one area on a large balcony near the topmost floor. The winds swirled and the snow settled, preceding the arrival of a grand sleigh from the sky. The sleigh was pulled by two great white horses and made of hard, sharp ice as clear as glass, and the woman who rode it was as barbarically beautiful, in her sharp, sheer way, as her mode of transportation. Her face was deathly pale, white as winter snow, as was her hair. Even her lips held no red flush to them, and her eyes were an arctic, frozen blue. Her icy gray-blue dress swirled around her, clinging to her form in a rather indecent manner until it flared out and trailed behind her, and she wore a thick cape made of countless tiny white snowflakes, though she had no need of it. Atop her head sat a great crown made of clear icicles. Yet none of this grandeur appeared lovely in the slightest; rather, it gave her the appearance of being ruthless, cold and unforgiving, all of which she was. Her expression was as icy as her attire.

The other lone soul on the balcony gave a short, formal bow, for while both were proud, he also knew that he was much less powerful than she- for now, in any case. The Snow Queen inclined her head in turn, but did not condescend to bow to him. "You summoned me," she stated. It was not a question.

"I did."

"It has been many years since we last met, Agnar, King of the Southern Isles."

"Not since my father sat on the throne."

"Indeed." She strode away from the sleigh. "And to what end have I been called?"

He paused a moment before answering. "As you well know, my country and the kingdom of Arendelle have been an in… uneasy truce, for nigh on a quarter of a century."

"I know all that goes on within this world. I see all. What of this?"

"I was under the impression you had interests in Arendelle, what with your hand in the Queen's particular abilities. And was it not one of your lands, before it was conquered by your Enemy?"

The Snow Queen ground her teeth. "For centuries, the people of the Northern Lands worshipped me as a deity. They revered me! They believed me to be Skaði, a goddess of the winter! All this, my master gave to me. But then the Enemy sent His men among the people and destroyed my reign. They do not believe any longer." Her rant sent frost flickering over the stone floor. "The Enemy gave them power over me- over _me!_ And with a prayerful word they can banish me away." She looked as if she longed to strike something, but could find nothing suitable to break. "It is unfair. All these long years, I have waited to punish them- I have taken their children, I have enchanted their minds, I have had my little revenges. But it is not enough. It will _never_ be enough!"

"Then you and I have common goals," Agnar replied smoothly. "Arendelle could and rightfully should be mine. I would take its land and resources as my own."

"Did not already another royal of the Southern Isles attempt to take rule over the Northern Lands?" the Snow Queen asked skeptically. "In fact, I believe it was the very boy who intruded on my work who did the deed."

Agnar rolled his eyes. "Hans is a simple-minded fool. He's awaiting execution in the dungeons right now. He only wanted the throne; he never would have known what to do with the power once he'd gotten it!" He calmed himself. "I want to make a deal with you."

"Oh?" This interested her. "What sort of deal?"

"I know your quest. How many shards have you yet to recover, until the mirror is complete?"

"Five," she answered curtly. "Two of which I myself handed over."

"Why?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You know as well as I that the mirror shards are attracted to each other. Everywhere your brother or the Queen goes, they increase my chances of coming across them."

Agnar nodded. "And what will you do when all the shards have been collected?"

"Then the mirror's power will be complete. My master will give me full dominion over the world. All the earth shall be encased in ice." She smiled coldly. "And I will spare only those who worship me once again."

"Here is my proposition," Agnar said. "I want to conquer Arendelle. You hold the secret to their Queen's power. I would have similar power, with which I could destroy her and establish my own rule. No man would dare to challenge me after that."

The Snow Queen regarded him coolly. "And if I should give you that precious power, King Agnar? What will be _my_ gain?"

"When I am king of Arendelle, I shall drive all their holy men from their country- and from my own. Furthermore, I will give you free rein over my citizens, to break them as you will. They will worship you as a goddess once again."

The Snow Queen debated this. Oh, how she longed for that worship! To be revered and bowed down to! To see the mortals cower beneath her like insects, begging, _pleading_ for mercy from her terrible ice and winds! The deal was too sweet to resist. She turned to the king once again. "You will have your power," she decided. "But not immediately."

His face clouded. "And why not?"

"There are shrewder ways to accomplish your goals, King Agnar. Allow me to lead you in this endeavor, and you will be the victor. This I promise you."

"And how would I be victorious if you do not give me full authority from the start?" he demanded.

"Subtlety will be our aid. You know the power your youngest brother possesses?"

He ground his teeth. "That thieving, worthless runt is no brother of mine."

"Nevertheless, he does hold great power, though he does not know it. If he finds out, he will be able to destroy whomever he wishes- that is, unless the person he desires to destroy is of equal ability."

Agnar began to see where this was leading. "You mean the Arendellian Queen."

"She, like your brother, ought to have had her heart changed by the shard- but she is still intact, due to the Enemy's authority." The Snow Queen's lip curled. "But no matter; it will serve us just as well. Here is what I suggest: the more shards that are in one place, the greater pull they exact on any lone shard within close enough proximity. The Arendellian princess is very soon to be wed. Bring your brother to the wedding. This will put him and the Queen in close contact for an extended period of time. Since dignitaries from nearly all the neighboring countries will be present, your brother's constant contact with the Queen and their probable dislike for one another will increase the power of their own shards, and cause them to draw the rest to them."

"If their power will be increased, won't Hans be more likely to discover his own abilities?" Agnar said doubtfully.

"That is exactly what I plan to happen. If and when his powers do resurface, we want him to direct them at someone of equal ability- that is, the Queen. Force the two to be at odds with each other. Make their bitterness, especially any he may harbor towards you, be redirected at each other. In the end, they will destroy each other."

"How would I increase this bitterness?"

She chuckled lowly. "There is nothing anyone detests more than being compelled to work with those they hate. Force their hands; tell your brother to marry the Queen."

"Hans may agree, but she never will," Agnar pointed out.

"Your brother will want the throne so much that he will do whatever it takes to ensure the success of his aims, including attempting to woo her. Hopefully she'll see right through his act and resent him all the more for it. This will drive a wedge between them so deep, neither will have any option but to hate each other- more, even, than they already do. In time, your brother's powers will reveal themselves in his fury, and then you will be allowed to sit back as they destroy each other for you and leave you a clear path to the crown."

"And if the Queen makes trouble?" Agnar said doubtfully. "She could easily dismiss the proposal altogether."

"Then I will exercise… more dramatic measures."

Agnar in turn considered his end of the deal, and how he was to go about it. He cared little who or what the people in his country worshiped; he wanted only power, and if the Snow Queen could give it to him, he would take it happily. "I agree to your terms."

"And I to yours." She removed from the inside of the cloak a small silver box, ornately decorated with silver-carved snowflakes. "I had predicted this, and brought this with me. You must not use its power until I instruct you, or all could be lost."

He took the silver box and opened it. From within glowed a fiery, burning glow, making his expression look all the more sinister in the scarlet light, and he smiled joylessly. "…A difficult temptation, but I will manage it."

"Very good, King Agnar. And what have I now, to guarantee that you'll keep up _your_ end of the bargain?"

Agnar considered this. "I have no magic to give you."

"No. But you do have one thing of great value, to both me and my master."

"And what is that?"

She smiled coldly. With a wave of her hand, ice grew from the floor into a podium, upon which lay a contract-like document, made of frozen white ice crystals. Another wave conjured up a pen of snowflakes and ink made of black ice-water.

"_The time has come to swear a pledge,"_ said the Snow Queen.

"_Sign on the dotted line._

_Just put the paper to the pen's edge,_

_Sign on the dotted line._

_Power's cost is rather low;_

_Just an IOU for your soul._

_For every crime there is a fine,_

_So sign on the dotted line!"_

"**Your fee is fair and small as well,**

**To destroy the Queen my soul I'll sell,"** Agnar swore, his only thought that of victory.

"**I'll crush her rule with my own hand,**

**And with your help I'll seize her lands.**

**Make the contract-"**

"_Pay the fee."_

"**You'll get no complaint from me."**

"_If you desire to be rid of those swine_

_Just sign on the dotted line."_

"**With your help I'll pave the way**

**For the rule of a new day!" **Agnar picked up the pen and dipped it into the glass-like inkwell. He traced his signature on the white paper.

"_Soon their lives will all be mine!"_ the Snow Queen said, grinning with malicious satisfaction as the pen formed each letter.

"_Just sign on the dotted line!_

_Sign on the dotted line!"_

The contract disappeared into thin air. She smiled, a smile so cold and cruel that it would have made blood freeze in the veins. "Welcome to the business, o Agnar, King of the Southern Isles."

He smiled back, his as full of a burning fury as hers were of ice. "I am welcomed indeed."

* * *

**A/N: Not every chapter will contain a song; some will and some won't, depending on the mood. I just thought it fit the moment to have a villain duo. In case this chapter wasn't clear, when two or more characters of opposing genders are singing, the bolded lines will be male and the italicized lines will be female. Lines that are both bolded and italicized are shared.**

**I may or may not be able to post another chapter by the end of the week; it just depends on how things go. Thank you all so much!**


	4. Chapter 2: What the Letter Said

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Winter was coming; she could taste it on the air.

True, it was only late October, but in Arendelle, October was the month in which winter truly began. Which was just fine for Elsa, who of course loved the crisp coolness of the frigid mornings and the great, wide silence of frozen nights. More to the point, their largest exports- mainly lumber and ice, which were just above fishing- were unaffected by the cold, since the trees were in large part evergreens, at least in the northern half of the kingdom. While Anna favored summer, with its warm breezes and sunny skies, the elder sister never felt so open and free as when she saw the first snowfall of the season.

More than a year had passed since the Great Freeze, two Julys ago, and the townsfolk had come to accept their… somewhat unusual queen. Elsa had quickly proven herself a capable ruler, and within the first year and a half of her reign had shown that she was a queen of both wisdom and compassion, never too soft to be bullied by her advisors, but never so proud as to not accept their advice.

One such advisor was with her now, helping her go over totals and tallies and a dozen other things that made being a queen so tedious. Elsa let out a low sigh, stretching her aching fingers, and Bishop Willum glanced up from his place across the pair of desks. "It's an awful lot of paperwork, isn't it?" the kindly clergyman said sympathetically.

"It is. Thank you for your help, Willum." The bishop had been a good friend to the crown for as long as Elsa could remember. He'd also been one of the few people who'd know about her powers prior to her coronation, and, as the royal confessor, one of the even fewer with whom she'd been able to speak about them openly. "I do feel bad, you know, about making you come here to work with me…"

"Nonsense; I volunteered, didn't I? And I'm sure it must be an awful lot of effort, trying to run a whole kingdom."

"It is, but you already have all your own work to deal with from the diocese, and-" She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said again ruefully. "It's only that, as much as I love Anna, she isn't very practiced at this sort of thing."

"Stop apologizing; I'm happy to help."

"Mark my words, one of these days, I'm going to get myself an assistant," she said resolutely. "And then you can go back to doing your job instead of mine."

Willum smiled, stood, and tapped the edge of his papers smartly against the desk, lining them up evenly. "I'm always available, your Majesty. Except for right now," he said, just as the cuckoo clock in the study opened its little doors for the miniature bird to pop out and chirp the time, which at the moment was fifteen to one in the afternoon. "I'm afraid I'll have to run, my dear; do forgive me."

"Of course; go ahead. I'm sorry to have kept you so long."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Apologizing again? We'll work that bad habit out of you someday, your Majesty. Until then, _vale, regina mea."_ He left, taking his own stack of papers with him as he did so.

Elsa sighed and leaned back in her chair, finally contented. She'd gotten all her work done for the day as fast as she could, and now had the greater part of the afternoon available to spend with Anna, Kristoff, Sven and Olaf. The five had all become very close- especially, she noted with a little smile, Anna and Kristoff. The princess and the clumsy if well-intentioned mountain man were deeply in love, a fact that had been made public by Anna's acceptance of Kristoff's somewhat awkward but entirely adorable proposal. Their wedding was set for a few days before Christmas, and there was always something to be done for it.

She hurried through the halls as she thought all this, so quickly that she nearly ran right over Olaf. "Heya, Elsa!" the snowman said in his usual bubbly fashion, dodging around her legs.

"Oh! Olaf, I'm sorry," she said, laughing. "I didn't see you there!"

"Oh, that's okay. Where you goin', huh?"

"To find Anna and Kristoff. I don't suppose you could tell me where they are?"

Olaf grinned widely. "Sure! They're in the ballroom. I think Anna's teaching Kristoff how to dance."

"Let's go see if we can't help them, hm?" she suggested, and Olaf agreed happily, leading her by his little stick hand to the ballroom, as if he believed she couldn't quite find her way on her own.

Olaf had been right; Kristoff and Anna were exactly where he'd said they'd be, which was in the main ballroom. Anna was trying to teach Kristoff how to dance while the tutor counted off in a monotonous rhythmic tone, _"One_ two three, _one _two three, _one_ two three…"

Kristoff had obviously gotten off the beat and was leading Anna the wrong way. "No, no, no!" the tutor said as he stopped his counting, obviously frustrated. "See here, you're supposed to turn her after _three_ steps, not five. Let's try this again. _One_ two three, _one-"_

"Ahem," Elsa cleared her throat, and the tutor looked over.

"Ah, your Majesty! Come to oversee our progress?" He cast a despairing glance at Kristoff. "I'm afraid there has been very little since the last lesson. This man has two left feet," he muttered under his breath.

Elsa suppressed a smile at the way Kristoff rolled his eyes. "No, Mr. Johansen; I actually came to shorten the lesson today. I'm afraid Princess Anna and Sir Bjorgman have some official business to attend to."

The man's eyes lit up with the prospect of being able to leave the fruitless situation. "Oh yes, your Majesty, right away!" He wasted no time in leaving the room, nearly running for the door.

Kristoff let out a sigh as the door closed. "Thank you," he said with obvious relief. "I think I was about to lose my mind. Can a royal suitor make any official decrees?"

"Not yet; why?" Anna said with a little giggle.

"I was going to make it illegal to count up to three without adding a _four_ afterwards."

All three laughed at that, and Elsa admitted, "I think he was at least as anxious for the lesson to be done as you were, Kristoff."

"So," Anna said, hopping over. "What is this 'official business' we need to attend to?"

"Military strategy," Elsa said, straight-faced. Anna's own expression deflated, and the older sister smiled. "In matters regarding snow-related warfare."

Anna's eyes lit up again, and she gasped, smiling. Elsa laughed and threw her arms out. In an instant, the whole ballroom was covered in snow, which piled in drifts on the floor as ice crept up the walls.

Elsa was the first to get a shot in; she conjured a snowball and threw it at Anna. The fluffy white flakes knocked her sister over, and Anna sat up, sputtering and red-faced. "N-not fair!" she said, chattering. "I w-wasn't ready!"

"Are you ready now?"

"Yes! I mean no! I mean-"

The snowball war erupted from there, with Elsa and Olaf on one side and Anna and Kristoff on the other. "This- may not- have been- such- a good- idea," Kristoff panted, lobbing snowballs over their snow fort.

"Oh, hush! This is the most fun I've had in _fblubhsbshhh!"_ Anna collapsed on the snow beside him, her face full of fluffy white powder. Kristoff could hear whooping cheers from the other side of the ballroom and a faint call of, _"Way to go, Elsa!"_

"Uff!" Anna said, brushing the snow out of her eyes. "Why that little-"

"Hold on there, feisty-pants, you missed some," Kristoff teased.

"Huh? Where?"

Her baffled face was just so adorable Kristoff couldn't help but grin as he bent down and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Right there," he chuckled.

Anna smiled, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and for a moment he completely forgot where he was and he was doing, transfixed by her blue-green eyes.

At least, until his fiancé shoved a handful of snow in his face. "Hey! Hey! I'm on your team!" he laughed.

"I'm going to get that stinker back," Anna vowed, sitting up. "Just see if I won't!"

"Take it eas-" He grinned and shook his head as she dashed out of view. "Why do I even bother?" he said, shaking his head.

On the other side of the ballroom, Elsa and Olaf were planning a defense attack. "You can bet she'll be coming around to get me now," Elsa said, drawing a little diagram in the snow with X's for the "enemy" and O's for her and Olaf. "But trust me, Kristoff will be watching her."

"He's soft," Olaf agreed.

"Exactly. So the minute his furry blond head pops over that snow wall, you snowball him to smithereens. Got it?"

"Got it!" Olaf agreed stoutly. Elsa snuck out from behind their snow fort and out into the open.

She looked around, confused. Anna was nowhere to be seen. All seemed silent among the drifts of snow; even Kristoff wasn't making any noises from his side of the ballroom. She turned around to look at Olaf, who was peeking over the top of their fort. The snowman shrugged, and then his eyes went wide.

_SPLAT!_

Elsa whirled around, surprised. Anna was laughing. With a grin, the queen conjured up a much _larger_ snowball above her head. Anna gasped, somewhere between awe and fear, and turned on her heel, trying to run back over to her side of the ballroom, laughing. Elsa giggled and chased after her.

The princess didn't make it six paces before she was completely floored by the snowball. When she sat up again, the Queen was laughing so hard she actually fell over, clutching her stomach. "Y-your face!" Elsa stammered, as the faux-angry Anna stood up and stalked over to her. "You sh-should have seen your f-face!"

The younger sister couldn't keep the annoyed look on her face for long. "Oh, hush, you!" she said, helping Elsa to her feet. The two grinned at each other.

"I'm so glad," Elsa said with a smile, "that you enjoy this."

"Enjoy it? I love it! And I'm really happy, too. Happier than ever," Anna agreed. _"Because for the first time in forever-"_

_ "I let you in, I let you see,"_ Elsa agreed.

_ "I've gotten all that I've dreamed off."_

_ "You've helped me become who I'm supposed to be."_

_ "Together, we changed our lonely world."_

_ "It's real!"_

_ "And taught each other how to love."_

_ "It's real, it's true, and now I know!"_

_ "No matter what happens tomorrow,"_ they said together,

_"I'm grateful for today!_

_ Because for the first time in forever-_

_ For the first time in forever!_

_ My sister's here to stay."_

The two laughed and embraced each other. Elsa was just about to speak when the ballroom doors suddenly opened, and she heard a voice call out, "Your Majesty!"

She jumped, startled, and turned around. Kai was standing in the doorway. She smoothed the skirt of her navy dress and cleared her throat. "Er, yes, Kai?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Madame, but we've received a foreign correspondence." She didn't know why he looked so nervous, but look it he did.

"Alright, well, start my pile for tomorrow then; I'll peruse it this evening." She turned back to her sister.

"Your Majesty- Queen Elsa." That got her attention; Kai rarely, if ever, used her first name during working hours. Even when she'd been only princess regent, he'd always addressed her by her title in matters of state. "This is something you may want to look into immediately."

Elsa hesitated and glanced back at the others. Anna gave her a quick nod, letting her know it was okay, and so the queen walked over to Kai. The two exited the ballroom. As she closed the door behind her, he handed her a letter, biting his lip hard.

Elsa looked down and suddenly realized why. The stamp contained a sword and two stars on either side, pressed into the wax- the seal of the Southern Isles. "Have you read it?" she said, looking over to Kai.

"The seal is unbroken, your Majesty," he pointed out gently. "So no. I have not."

Right. Of course he wouldn't have, and if he had the wax would have been broken. Just the mention of that place and she found she wasn't thinking clearly. Elsa took a deep, steadying breath and opened the envelope.

What followed was perhaps one of the most unsettling letters she'd ever read, at least since becoming queen.

_ To Her Royal Highness, Queen Elsa of Arendelle,_

_ Greetings from King Agnar, sovereign of the Southern Isles. If it does please your Majesty, I was wondering if I would be allowed to visit your country with my brothers as representatives, to discuss what I believe would be a mutually beneficial political negotiation. If agreed to, I think this arrangement could bring great prosperity and friendship between our two kingdoms, which as you know entered into a peace treaty twenty-five years ago. Said treaty must be renewed before the end of the year, as per the terms of the agreement. I would like to broach another issue at that time as well._

_ I would explain further; however, I do not feel that the details of such a negotiation could or should be detailed in something as hazardous as a letter, which as you know could easily fall into the wrong hands and be read by the wrong eyes. I implore you to return a swift reply, for the sake of both countries._

_ His Royal Highness, King Agnar of the Southern Isles_

She closed the letter, mind whirling. What could possibly be so secretive that the king wouldn't wish to include it in a letter? And for what reason could he possibly want to visit Arendelle? But he had a point; nearly a quarter of a century had passed since the imposition of peace between the two kingdoms, and the events from the previous year's summer had already strained that relationship enough. She didn't want to put that peace in further jeopardy.

She turned to Kai, breathing out through her nose. "Get me some paper and a quill."

* * *

A fierce wind sprinkled with snowflakes blew into the cell, and the prince pulled his arms in closer, shivering.

Hans didn't know why he was still alive, for he knew he should have been hung at least two weeks previous. His execution date had been set for the end of September; it was now nearing late October. He also knew that if there had been a stay of execution, it wasn't an issue of legality, but then that eliminated the only possible explanation he could think of.

It had gotten bitterly cold as winter set in, frosting the Scandinavian country over with snow and ice. It was nowhere near as cold as Hans remembered Arendelle to be during the Queen's little _fiasco_ a year and a half ago, but then again he'd had a winter coat at that point, and all his clothes had been new and clean. His once-white tailcoat had been stained to a dingy brown, marked here and there by darker brown spots that at one point had been burgundy. That special pattern was courtesy of any number of his elder siblings. The leather gloves had long since faded into a off-white, and although they were now thin, they were at least free of holes, andHans still wore them, hoping they would at least in part cut the chill that came through the glassless barred window.

A year and a half. That was how long he'd been rotting in this cell. Although he'd been sentenced to death practically the day he'd returned to the Southern Isles, there were too many technicalities about executing a prince (well, _former_ prince, now) for the deed to be done right away, prompting his brothers to hire countless lawyers to go through the old law books to make sure every loophole was buttoned shut and legions of propagandists to ensure the tale of his ill-fated plan to take over Arendelle had reached every Southern ear, stirring up the desires of rich and poor alike to see the useless prince dead. After all, what better way to prevent a riot than to make sure the people agreed with their leaders?

Hans knew any of this only from the scornful reports of his brothers, interspersed here and there between beatings and mockery. He, meanwhile, had devoted his time in the cell to eating, sleeping, and growing an unkempt beard, not to mention the-

_No. Don't think about it._ That was the only rule of the cell, the one he imposed on himself. _Don't put yourself through that again. Find your train of thought. Reroute it._

-and all in all just trying to keep his own heart beating. Two winters and a summer exposed to the elements had left him weakened by illness and maltreatment, but Hans had done his best to maintain his health despite the circumstances _After all, _Hans mused to himself, _it wouldn't do for them to come down here one day to bring me to the gallows and find my corpse grinning up at them from the ground, now would it?_

But why the delay? After all their efforts to placate the public and ensure the execution would go over smoothly, were his brothers really going to allow the last few days of fall to slip by into winter, when an execution would garner much less of a public showing? And oh, there would be a public showing, his brothers had sneered time and time again. After all, what use was humiliation without a crowd? But now, they seemed to be putting it off. To what end? Hans would've demanded an explanation if there were anyone to listen to him but the walls.

Well, he was soon to have his explanation, for when the cell door opened again for the first time in weeks, Hans was startled but somehow not surprised to see the identity of his new visitor. King Agnar, the eldest of his brothers and by far his least favorite, walked in, a look of satisfaction on his face and a letter in his hand. "Get up," he ordered.

Hans rolled his eyes but did as told, standing up from the iron-lattice bench. The chains attached to the cuff around his leg rattled as he did so. He tried to force himself not to limp on his twisted ankle, but it wasn't much use. He knew he looked worse for wear, and could imagine (although he hadn't glanced in a mirror for God knew how long) how he must have appeared to his brother and sovereign: the matted tangles of hair and beard, the faded bloodspots and the grime would have been enough to mar his appearance, even without the black eye and split lip that he'd acquired from two of his _beloved_ brothers. "So," he said sarcastically. "Finally built that scaffolding yet? What took you so long?"

Agnar struck him upside the head with his fist. Hans winced and glared back up at him, but he didn't dare to raise a hand to the new bruise that was forming on the side of his face. "Have some respect for your king," Agnar ordered. "And as to your execution, it's been… suspended."

"Oh? Why so?" he said, feigning disinterest.

"Because you have not yet outlived your usefulness." He waved the letter slightly. "The Arendellian Queen has given permission for me and my brothers as representatives to enter the country, and one of those representatives is going to be you."

Hans stared, and then broke out laughing- a hoarse, sickly sound that quickly developed into a cough. "And what," he managed to say, when he'd suppressed the cough, "Do you expect she'll do when I come waltzing up to the palace gates? She'll turn me into an ice statue and throw my frozen body in the fjords. Come now, Agnar; I thought you were smarter than that." He deliberately left out the 'king,' for which Agnar noted and struck him again.

"She'll desist once she's heard what I have to say."

"And what exactly could that be?"

"That you are proposing marriage."

Hans stared. "Pardon?"

"You wish to have the Queen's hand in marriage."

"Oh, so I heard that right," he said, raising an eyebrow sardonically. "And I don't suppose you'll care to tell me how or why I should do this?"

"You'll do it because I want Arendelle under my control."

Hans laughed again. "And how do you propose I go about asking for her hand? She's hardly my biggest fan."

"You manipulated her idiot sister into falling for you, didn't you?"

"All the more reason for her to spear me through with an icicle." He made to turn away, but before he could, Agnar caught him by the shoulder and whirled him around. He grabbed his youngest brother around the neck.

"Hans, I want you to listen very carefully," Agnar said, voice silkily smooth. "I want Arendelle, and I will have it- be it through your marriage or more… extreme measures. So if you want to keep your pathetic, worthless life, I suggest you _find a way _to charm the Queen, or that noose will have seemed an easy death to you. Do I make myself clear?"

Hans swallowed forcefully against the grip crushing his windpipe and nodded, face pale.

"Good." He released him. "Now, I suggest you get to what you do best: plotting." He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

Hans sat down and began to think. …Marry the queen? Alright, so it would get him the throne he'd wanted before, but now that desire had long since passed- for reasons he did not want to think on nor worry about at the present moment. Besides, even _if_ he managed to do the impossible, he would still be under Agnar's thumb- and who was to say the king would even let him live after he and the Queen had wed? Agnar had certainly had no qualms about killing him before. And to be frank, Hans hated his brother, for a number of reasons. This… this was the last straw.

And so, Hans _did _begin to do what he did best- but not exactly in the way Agnar had desired.

* * *

**A/N: First off, I just want to say that I am **_**terribly **_**sorry about not updating for more than a week! I didn't realize I would be in a spot without internet connection and was thus unable to update for longer than I anticipated. Thank you all for your wonderful support, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	5. Chapter 3: The Arrival

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

When the large wooden ship bearing the deep scarlet and white cross of the Southern Isles docked in the harbor, Elsa didn't go out to greet it. Instead, she waited patiently in the great hall, which served as both a ballroom and a throne room, hardly moving as she sat in her throne. Anna, on the other hand, was fidgeting nervously in her seat, and Kristoff- who was standing to the side and looking uncomfortable to be so dressed up for the occasion- spoke not a word.

When the doors finally opened, Elsa stood, as did Anna, as the ambassadors filed in. The king entered first, dressed in deep red and bearing a gold crown. He bowed politely, and Elsa curtsied in response. The princes came in behind him, each dressed in similar fashion but in different colors, with silver crowns.

One man in particular stood out, and Elsa felt her blood freeze. As the princes bowed to her, she stepped off the small raised platform on which her throne stood and approached the king, anger burning in her eyes. "If this is a joke, your Highness, it isn't a very funny one," she hissed.

"Is that-? No way," Anna said, voice raising several pitches as she bounded down the steps over to the youngest of the princes.

Hans didn't raise his head, not even as Anna exclaimed in shock and anger, "It _is_ you! How dare you! Why I oughtta-"

Whatever she "oughtta" have done, Kristoff beat her to it. He pulled her away abruptly and, before Hans could even look up in surprise, had punched him square in the jaw.

The prince stumbled backward and landed on his butt in a very undignified manner. "Kristoff!" Elsa said, aghast.

"You think that's bad, I'm just getting warmed up, you no-good-"

"Kristoff, enough!" the queen snapped, and the mountain man looked over at her, surprised. "Believe me, I know how tempting it is to bash his head in, but if you'd hold your temper I'd be much obliged."

"If we're taking sides, I'm on hers," Hans groaned, standing up and rubbing his jaw.

"You shut up," all three Arendellians snapped at the same time. Elsa turned to the king again. "King Agnar, you'd best have an absolutely _spectacular_ reason for this incredible breach of conduct!"

"That I do, your Majesty. But perhaps it would be best if we discussed this in a more appropriate setting for such negotiations?"

Although Elsa was impatient for an answer, she led the visiting royals to a conference room, taking her seat in the largest chair around the round conference table. Agnar took the one opposite, and the others seated themselves as well. "An explanation, if you please," Elsa said coldly.

"Naturally," Agnar said, face the epitome of tact and control. "As you know, your Majesty, our two kingdoms are fast approaching their twenty-fifth year in our peace treaty; by the first day of the new year it will need to be renewed."

"I am aware. What I fail to see is why such a matter required you to bring the youngest prince along with you." No one failed to notice how she did not call Hans by name, and said the words very frostily, at that. It was a wonder that she hadn't frozen over the conference table, but then a year's worth of practice and love had given her a previously unheard of measure of control.

"You see, your Majesty- and I ask you to hear me out before you reject the proposal- I believe there may be a better way to ensure peace between our nations than a simple treaty."

She raised an eyebrow. "Continue."

"In short, Queen Elsa, I believe it would be mutually beneficial if you and one of our own royals would wed- that is, Prince Hans."

The conference room was dead silent for about two seconds.

Then those two seconds passed, and Anna of all people leapt to her feet. "You have got to be kidding me!" she cried. "Did you really think you could just _waltz_ back in here and ask for my sister's hand?! Like that whole 'I think I'll kill both the heirs to the throne and become king myself' thing never _happened?!_ Why you pompous, egotistical, jerk-faced-"

"Anna," Elsa said sternly.

Her sister whirled around, still fuming. "What?!"

"Anna, please, take a seat."

Although the princess looked anything but obedient at the moment, she obliged and sat down. Elsa closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself, and then opened them again. "I will consider your proposal and have an answer for you by tomorrow morning. I'm afraid I'll have no response for prior to then." Hans (who'd wisely chosen to remain silent) looked up, surprised. Elsa stood. "Kai, please show the King and the princes to the guest wing… _all_ of them."

The manservant, who was standing near the door, nodded. "Yes, your Majesty." He beckoned to Agnar and the others. "Come with me, please." They filed out of the room in success, Hans the last to go. Elsa thought she saw his eyes flick to her- green, she noticed- before he brushed out the door without so much as a word.

As soon as the door closed, Anna jumped up again. "Elsa, you can't _seriously_ be thinking-"

"Of course I'm not. But it's bad tact to turn down a proposal for a political marriage so quickly."

"Tact? You're concerned about _tact?"_

"Whatever has happened, Anna, this is still a diplomatic situation and it is with diplomacy that I must respond," Elsa explained. "I will politely turn down the invitation tomorrow and then send them away."

Anna bit her lip, and then huffed, conceding. "Oh, alright. Just make sure they really get the message: you mean no."

"I promise, I will leave no room for negotiation," she assured her.

"Good." She stalked out of the room, still obviously annoyed.

Kristoff watched her go, and then turned, looking rather disgruntled, back to Elsa. "Yeah, uh… I think I'll go feed Sven. Maybe it'll stop me from punching the walls… or maybe not."

She smiled wryly. "That makes two of us."

Elsa waited until Kristoff had left, as well, and she was alone in the room. She ran her fingers through her blond hair in frustration and undid the bun, letting down the braid. She sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh and rubbed her temples.

_What am I going to do?_

* * *

_Tick._

_ Tock._

_ Tick._

_ Tock._

She grimaced and rolled over, pulling the pillow around her ears with a groan. After a moment, she closed her eyes.

_…Tick._

With a sigh, she sat up. It was no use; the castle was too darn quiet at this time of night, and she knew well enough that if she didn't fall asleep earlier on, she'd be up until dawn. It seemed that this was doomed to be one of those nights. Her thoughts just wouldn't stop running- why the Southern king was really here, why he'd brought Hans along with, why in the _world_ he'd thought she'd ever say _yes_ to such a ridiculous idea…

Well, better to spend the evening reading in the library than alone in her room, driving herself crazy with questions she didn't have answers to. Elsa swung her legs over the side of her bed, shrugged on her blue dressing robe over her old white nightgown and headed out into the hallway. With a circular motion of her hands, she created a little ball of glowing blue snowflakes, like a small blizzard, to light her way.

The library was two floors down and several hallways apart from her room, so Elsa made sure to be very quiet. When she arrived, the library appeared entirely deserted, which was to be expected at such a late hour. Blowing on the little orb in her hands, the miniature snowstorm of light flew to all the little wall scones in the room, casting the bookshelves in a flickering, wintry light. She passed her desk and headed to the old fiction section, a place she'd passed numerous hours as girl when she just couldn't stand the same four walls of her room anymore. Anna was hardly a studious woman and had been even less so when she was a child, and Elsa had always been quite certain that, even on the off chance her sister wound wander into the palace library, she could effectively conceal herself among the bookshelves.

She entered into the right row the third from the end and began to run her fingers along the old familiar titles. _A Thousand and One Arabian Nights; The Shoemaker and the Elves; Little Ashputtle-_

_Creak._

Elsa stopped and looked around. The library was still dark. "But I could've sworn…" she whispered to herself, and listened.

There was nothing. It was an old castle; it made noises. She was just messing with her own mind. She went back to looking over the titles.

_Creee-ak._

She jumped and turned to the left, peering into the darkness. Nothing. Noth-

Someone clapped their hand over her mouth.

Elsa screamed and tried to jerk away, but the person was holding her fast and whispering frantically, "Please, be quiet, stop screaming-!"

She managed to get a hand between her and the intruder, and a veritable blizzard shot out of her palm, slamming him into the opposite shelf.

The intruder lay motionless, covered in fluffy powder, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, suddenly panicked. "Don't be dead, please, don't be dead," she muttered, rushing forward.

The man (for it was indeed a man) groaned suddenly, and she sighed in relief- that was, until the man opened his distinctly green eyes, and she suddenly realized that she knew him very well. "You!" she snapped.

Hans groaned again and rubbed the back of his head. "Me." He stood up. "Your Majesty-"

"What in the _world_ were you doing?!" she hissed. "I could have you imprisoned for that! You _should_ be imprisoned anyway! I want an explanation this very instant, Prince Hans, or I swear I will freeze you into an iceberg so fast, you won't have time to shiver!"

He held up two placating hands. "I understand. Just- allow me a second, please, to catch my breath, and then I will explain everything."

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. Hans righted himself and dusted the snow off his clothes- she noticed that, oddly enough, he was still in his suit- before saying, "Alright, I imagine you have several questions."

"Yes. One being, why did you _attack_ me in the _middle of the night?!_ If this is an assassination, you've lost your touch."

The words stung, but Hans pressed on. "It wasn't an… assassination. I need to speak with you."

"Oh? Care to divulge _why_ you had to assault me in the library to do so?"

"I couldn't risk being overheard."

"Overheard?" That caught her attention. "What do you need to say that's so dangerous you couldn't risk saying it earlier today? I noticed you stayed quite silent."

"What I need to say, your Majesty, are the exact reasons why you need to agree to this proposal."

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped ten degrees, as did her temperament. "I have nothing to say on the matter of your 'proposal,'" she said icily.

"Look, I don't like this any more than you do," Hans snapped. "But my brother wants control over Arendelle, and unlike me, he's not so kind as to just go after her queen to get it."

Elsa felt her blood run cold. "What?"

Hans glanced around and then said in a low voice, "If he knew I was telling you this, I'd be hung for high treason. But Agnar has informed all twelve of us- and me specifically- that unless there's a wedding soon, he will take 'extreme measures.' I assume those would include waging war on Arendelle, killing you and any other heirs- Anna included- and taking the country for his own. Oh, and he's made it quite clear that if I don't do my _job-"_ His voice was filled with disgust, though at her or his brother, she couldn't tell, "-there will be one less prince of the Southern Isles."

Elsa's mind was racing, trying to understand all of this and formulate a plan. She paced a few meters away, wringing her hands and thinking. "If war is the only other option," she said, voice still stunned, "Then… it seems I have no choice."

"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that." She turned back, surprised, and saw Hans's grim expression. "Unfortunately, there is no guarantee that after our marriage has allowed my brother to appropriate the Arendellian lands, he won't stage some sort of accident for the both of us. In fact, I'm sure he'll seize the throne by force and establish an absolute rule. Do you really think your people would stand for that?"

"No, never," Elsa said, shaking her head. Her people valued their relative freedom and peace, their right to have a say in their government. "They would rebel in a heartbeat."

"The Southern Isles' armies are strong; your people wouldn't last a year in a rebellion, especially one without an organized leader," Hans said grimly. "The king would crush them, ruthlessly. And more to the point, I am loathe to remain under my brothers' thumbs, especially Agnar's. They are evil men."

"And I suppose you're one to pontificate to me about morality," she shot back.

He gave a bitter laugh, and to her it sounded slightly sad, as well. "No, I wouldn't suppose so. But whatever you may think of me, your Majesty, know that my brothers are much worse than I am."

"Worse than a psychotic would-be murderer?" she said doubtfully.

He nodded grimly. "You may call me insane, and perhaps you're right. But if I am indeed… 'psychotic,' then at the very least I am not sadistic." He walked a few paces away and then turned towards her again. "The fact that you are a queen will not stay their hands. They were all set to execute me before Agnar decided I had not yet 'outlived my usefulness.' There is no doubt in my mind that your fate would be similar."

"So- what should we do?" she said, trying to work through this. "I have absolutely no desire to marry _you,_ of all people. And if even that won't spare my people… there has to be some way out."

"Here is what I suggest," he said. "We pretend to hate each other at first-" She snorted. "-well, that won't really be pretending. But in any case, we hate each other, then slowly your heart begins to thaw and you fall madly in love with me, etc. etc., then I, in usual devious fashion, disappear one day, never to be seen again and leaving behind a betrayed, broken-hearted ex-fiancé."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I could pull that last bit off for very long."

"You won't have to. I trust that you'll be able to discreetly gather your own forces by that time and have them assemble to fight off my brother's armies. You'll have the advantage of surprise, and the war will be much shorter and less bloody than it would be if you were caught off-guard."

"And you?"

"I'll be somewhere in the wide world, using a different name and making a nice little fortune for myself, seeded by a small payment from your palace treasury- nothing your coffers can't handle, I assure you. Everyone wins- well, except Agnar, but believe me, that's for the better."

"Would we be able to tell Anna and Kristoff?" Elsa said, hating herself for even considering collaboration with this _filth,_ but considering it all the same.

"Do you believe you can trust them?"

"Yes," she answered instantly.

"Then you may do what you will, but I'll warn you that the less people who know, the better."

She acknowledged this with the barest trace of a nod. "Would we really be able to fool them?"

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "You are a master of concealment, I am a master of deception. I think between the two of us, we should be able to pull it off."

She eyed him warily. "Assuming that we do decide to implement your little scheme, and assuming we even _succeed,_ how do I know I can trust _you?"_

Hans regarded her silently for a moment, and then said coolly, "You don't. But there are two things we have in common."

"Which are?"

"We both have a lot to lose at the hands of my brother… and a lot to gain."

There was silence in the room. Elsa thought long and hard about the idea. In the end, she voiced her conclusion with a tone of extreme distaste. "It seems we have no choice."

He smiled, an intelligent, determined sort of smile that gave even the queen of the ice a slight shiver, to see such a fire in his eyes. "Then it appears, your Majesty, we are co-conspirators against the crown of the Southern Isles."

"It appears we are," she agreed. He extended a hand, and she knew that, short of a contract (which could be found or traced) this was the most binding way she could seal this oath.

She reached out her own and shook it.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked the chapter and that it wasn't too confusing! Please review, and thank you all for your loyalty. : )**


	6. Chapter 4: An Engagement is Made

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Elsa thanked Heaven that morning for white eye makeup, because it was the only thing that could hide the purplish bruise rings under her eyes. After Hans had left the library, she had found she couldn't sleep a wink, and so naturally was quite exhausted. She'd finally managed to drift off just as the sky had begun to pale to gray over the eastern mountain ridge, and had been jolted awake to the frantic pounding of a servant at her door, telling her through the wood that she was late for the council meeting. Elsa scrambled to get dressed and made-up, pinning up her hair as she ran out of her room and down the stairs to the council chambers.

Anna was waiting outside the room for her. "They're all in there," she said, with obvious contempt. "Come on, let's get this over with."

Elsa could have kicked herself; of course, she'd need to warn Anna about what she was going to do. But she'd completely forgotten and now didn't have the time to explain. "Anna, listen to me," she said in a low voice, glancing around. "When we go in there… something very strange is going to happen. I need you to go along with it."

The younger sister furrowed her reddish-blonde eyebrows. "Strange? What do you mean, strange?"

"Just-" She glanced at the door, worried someone would be listening. "Please, Anna. I need your support in this. I promise, I'll make everything clear later, but I need you to trust me right now, okay?"

Anna still looked confused, but she nodded. "Yeah, of course I trust you. Don't worry, I'll back you up in there." She smiled and straightened up stoutly, and Elsa wished she'd had more of a chance to impress on her the _absolute importance_ that she play along.

However, such a chance was not available, for the door suddenly opened, revealing an anxious Kai. "Ah, your Majesties," the manservant said. "We were just about to come looking for you."

"Well, we are both here now," Elsa said nervously, smoothing her dress down- cotton, not ice, which was good because the way she felt right now, she'd probably freeze her own clothes to the chair. Taking a steadying breath, she walked into the room.

The Southern King was in the large chair opposite hers, with her own council on her right and the princes to her left. Hans was the closest, and she shot him a frosty glare as she entered- well, as frosty as she could manage. Her stomach felt like someone had reached inside her and tied it in knots.

"My most sincere apologies for my tardiness," she said as she entered and everyone stood. Anna walked over to her chair on the nearest right. "I do hope you won't hold it against me."

"Not at all, your Majesty," King Agnar replied graciously, as they all once again took their seats. "Now, to business?"

"To business," she agreed, keeping her voice cool and calm. "Regarding the matter of Prince Hans's proposal, I have reached my decision… and my answer is yes."

The look on her councilmembers' faces would have been hysterical, if the situation weren't so serious. Her department heads were all stunned. Kristoff looked mutinous. Anna's mouth had dropped open. For one shocked moment, nobody could think to say anything.

And then, the questions started.

"Your Majesty, you cannot be serious!" Lord Dokken, the lord of the Southeastern Province, exclaimed, getting to his feet. Elsa stood, as well. "This- this _traitor_ cannot be allowed to become our king! The people would never stand for it!"

"You forget, Lord Dokken, that it was Prince Hans who oversaw my people's protection during the Great Freeze a little over a year ago," she pointed out. "While his aim was less than honorable, you cannot deny that he didn't wish to harm the citizens in any way- in fact, he opened up the palace to house and feed them."

"Be that as it may, my Queen, and with all due respect to your Majesty, King Agnar," said her minister of trade, a man by the name of Folkestad, giving a short bow to the Southern king, "he did attempt to assassinate you and left your sister in grave peril. He lied to us all and attempted to remove our monarch and the surviving heir!"

"That he did," Elsa answered evenly. "And I agree, it will take a great deal of effort to placate the public. But it is an effort I am willing to undertake."

"To what end?!" demanded Lady Evjen, a duchess of the Southwestern Province. "How in the world would this be beneficial to anyone, least of all yourself, Queen Elsa?!"

"Your Majesty, if I may," Bishop Willum said tranquilly, rising from his seat. Elsa gave her nod of approval. "The Queen seems to me to be showing great wisdom and clemency, something I do not believe we should fault her for. If she is willing to forgive the young prince and accept his proposal for the betterment of our relationship with the Southern Isles, then I say we at least consider her agreement to said proposal. After all, does not 'love cover a multitude of sins?'"

"My thanks, Willum," Elsa said with an appreciative nod. The bishop returned to his seat.

"And what of the traitor?" snapped her treasurer, glaring at Hans. "Has he nothing to say for himself on the matter?"

Hans raised his head and looked around the council table. "My offer still stands," he said finally, voice calm. "Whether she accepts it or not is her choice."

"Gentlemen, women, what it comes down to is this," Elsa said, addressing the whole table. "A great rift has opened between us and the Southern Isles. It is a rift they themselves cannot repair. Rather than have a quarter of a century of goodwill between the two kingdoms crumble over my pride, I would like to extend my agreement to such a proposal as an act of goodwill. Furthermore, if any here are worried about the prince using the throne to his own ends-" She shot an icy look towards Hans, who merely stared straight ahead, "-I can _assure_ you, I will be able to handle it." As if to prove her point, the temperature in the room fell several degrees, and a few of those present shivered.

Several among her council still seemed ready to debate, but before they could, Anna stood. "My sister has made her decision," she declared. "It was hers to make. Hasn't she been a good queen to you this past year? Has her judgment _ever_ failed you?" They glanced around, and then grudgingly shook their heads. "Then if this could maybe help- what are they called?- 'foreign relations,' then I think we should trust her." She looked over to Elsa again and said firmly, "I do."

Elsa smiled in gratitude, relieved, and then turned back to the table. "My answer, again, is yes. This meeting is adjourned. Shall we reconvene tomorrow and work out the details?" She glanced over to Agnar.

"Naturally. Until tomorrow, then." The Southern king and the princes all stood, bowed, and left the room. After a quiet word from Elsa, the Arendellian council left, as well, looking as if they'd certainly be muttering amongst themselves as soon as they were out of her earshot.

Once the door was closed, Anna turned to Elsa. "Okay," she said, folding her arms and frowning. "You said you'd explain. I want an explanation."

"That makes two of us," said Kristoff, who'd so far spoken not a word.

Elsa sighed and sat down, rubbing her temples. "It's a bit complicated…"

She explained to them the situation as Hans had revealed it to her the night before. As she did so, Kristoff's eyes grew narrower and narrower, and Anna grew paler and paler. When she was finished, the younger sister exclaimed, "You can't be serious!"

"I wish I weren't."

"But- _war?"_ she shook her head, stunned. "The king seemed like such a-" She stopped short. "I know, I know. I guess they're all like that, huh?"

"It seems so. But unfortunately, I don't think Hans is acting on this one."

"How do you know he isn't lying?" Kristoff questioned doubtfully.

"Because it makes sense. Why would they make such a proposal unless they were hoping to avoid a more direct confrontation? The king doesn't seem like a stupid man; he wouldn't have risked such a blatantly ridiculous offer unless he had a secondary plan up his sleeve to get to the throne. I think he was counting on the fact that Hans would be able to charm me… but he didn't expect his brother to go rogue." Her expression was grim. "It appears we're just lucky he hates his older brother more than he hates us."

Anna grimaced. "I can't believe we have to _work_ with him. I mean, I… ugh." She shuddered. "And the thought of you even _pretending_ to be engaged to that jerk…"

"I know. I hate it as much as you do. But it's the only way to buy us enough time." She looked between the two of them seriously. "I need you two to pretend to go along with this, or it'll never work. The four of us will have to fool two whole countries, so I need to know I can count on you. Can I?"

Anna and Kristoff glanced at each other, and then Anna nodded. "Alright. I'm not happy about it, but I'll do it."

"I'm in, too," Kristoff said grudgingly. "I just… I don't like it."

"That makes three of us," Elsa sighed. "Hans isn't very keen on the idea, either, at least as far as I can tell. But we don't have a choice." Her face was set. "I need you two to help me fake a romance as best as I possibly can."

"Us? Why us?" Anna said, surprised.

Elsa smiled, but it was a rueful smile at best. "Because you're the only love experts I've got."

* * *

"Here y'go, Buddy; big serving of hay with a carrot for desert."

The reindeer snorted appreciatively, and Kristoff chuckled. "That's the life, right? Got to thank living in a castle for that; we never got carrots this time of year before."

Sven set to munching on the hay, and Kristoff sighed. "I gotta tell you, Sven, I don't like it. I don't trust Prince Loony-Bin, I don't trust his twelve sneaky brothers, and I honestly don't know if I should trust Elsa's judgment on this one."

"Well, one out of three is better than nothing."

He looked over to see Anna standing in the doorway of the stables. "Yeah?" he said, smiling a bit despite himself. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Anna said, walking over and pulling a handful of hay from the bales in the middle, "That even if we can't trust Hans- and I _don't,"_ she reassured him, seeing his dark look, "we can trust Elsa."

"It's not her intentions I'm doubting, Anna, it's her decision to work with this guy."

"Believe me, my sister's too smart to fall for his tricks," Anna said, letting Sven nibble the hay off her palm. "Besides, even if it turns out he _is_ conning us, she'll be able to handle him _no-problemo."_ She dusted off her hands for emphasis.

It was such an adorable motion that the mountain man couldn't help but grin. Within less than two months, this feisty redhead would be his wife- his companion in all things, his best friend, the mother of his children and, above all, the love of his life. Most people would consider twelve months' worth of courtship and six of engagement to be rather hasty, but considering Anna's track record, a year and a half was practically an eternity. Besides, they knew each other better than anyone; even Elsa, close as she and Anna were, did not know some of the things he knew about his fiancé. And that was just fine, Elsa had assured him at the time of his and Anna's engagement; she didn't mind the closeness between the pair, nor did she feel as if she were being shut out. "All I want," the Queen had told him, "Is for Anna to know that she is truly loved. And if you can do that for her, I wouldn't dream of interfering."

Most importantly, Kristoff knew, was that he and Anna _did_ in fact have true love- they weren't just _in _love with each other, they truly _loved_ each other. It was more than warm fuzzy feelings in his stomach (although he couldn't deny that those were a pretty nice perk); there was literally nothing he would not do to ensure her wellbeing, including dying. If it came down to one or the other of them, Kristoff would happily jump off a cliff so that she could live- and he knew that she would do the same for him. _Although come to think of it, that might be a problem if it ever comes to that…_

"Kristoff? He-_llooo?"_ A hand waving in front of his face drew him back to the present moment. "Are you listening to me?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry," he said, shaking himself slightly. "You've got a point; if he's as smart as he looks, he wouldn't dare try messing with Elsa," Kristoff agreed. Then he added, "You sure _you_ won't fall for his tricks?"

Anna could tell by his tone that he was only teasing her, but she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "I'm sure," she said seriously, but she was smiling, too. "Besides," she added in a much lighter tone, "Who would even bother _looking _at that rat with a big, handsome guy like you around?"

Kristoff blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh…"

"See? Even you can't come up with a name. Can you, Sven?"

_"No,"_ Kristoff answered in Sven's voice.

"Didn't think so," Anna said cheerfully. She grabbed him by the hand and tugged. "Now come on! You promised you'd show me how to ice-fish today, remember?"

Kristoff laughed. "Alright, feisty-pants, alright, I'm coming." He followed her out of the stables with a dopey grin. Sven gave a snort that sounded more like a laugh, and Kristoff shot him a look. "Jealous," the ice-harvester said, before Anna pulled him out completely, leaving Sven to chuckle as best a reindeer could.

* * *

**A/N: I would like to personally thank Warthunder, Avamys, GeologyRocks321 and the unnamed Guest for their lovely comments! My love to you all!**

**I would like to ask all of my readers to,_ instead_ of leaving a review today, please, _please pray_ for the Christians facing such terrible persecution right now in the Middle East, especially the Christians of the Iraqi city in Mosul. May our prayers give them the strength to hold their faith with courage and holy joy, despite the terrible sufferings they face. Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam!**


	7. Chapter 5: The Ball and Its Events, Pt 1

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended. And yes, the scene in the middle was one of the outtakes I adapted to fit this fic.

* * *

Both councils met again as the formal engagement meeting commenced the following morning. Elsa sat very poised and formal in her chair at the head of the table, signing several official documents and initialing them in triplicate. Hans had to sign a number of papers, as well, and these were then countersigned by King Agnar.

"Now all that's left is to discuss the actual wedding itself," the king said, when the paperwork was finished. "I believe it would be best if it would happen in short order."

"I agree; that would be most effective," Elsa said calmly. "However, wedding preparations, especially for a royal marriage, take some time." She was hoping to put off the wedding for at least six months, which would give her ample time to ready her troops without having to fear an actual marriage.

"Princess Anna's wedding to Sir Kristoff is to take place three days before Christmas," one of her counselors pointed out. "Your Majesty's marriage could take place at the same time and the preparation work would be negligible. It would save the treasury a great deal, as well."

Elsa felt frost crystals gathering in her hands, but she managed to not let her panic show on her face. "Would it not seem to the public a bit rushed?"

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, this whole affair will undoubtedly seem strange to the people. A rushed wedding will be the least we have to explain."

Elsa fought the growing migraine inside her skull and said, "Well. I suppose it's settled, then." She glanced over at Anna apologetically, knowing that this would positively _ruin_ her sister's wedding day. Kristoff didn't look too happy, either, but he thankfully remained silent.

"Now, as to announcing the engagement," King Agnar said with a tone of slight satisfaction.

"It is Arendellian custom to announce all royal engagements with a ball," Elsa explained. "Unless you have any objections?"

The councilmembers from both countries glanced around at each other. When no objection was forthcoming, Elsa nodded. "Alright, then. There will be a ball at the end of the week announcing the engagement."

* * *

A small crowd had gathered around the signpost in the town square, murmuring and shaking their heads at each other, baffled. A little boy ran up, trying to crawl between the adults' legs and look through to see what was going on. When he couldn't, he stamped his foot, frustrated, and waited for the adults to leave.

But they didn't- in fact, the crowd only grew, and the murmurings became louder and the shakings more emphatic. When he saw a gap open up between two villagers, he took his opportunity and darted through.

He managed to get through to the front of the crowd and looked up at the lamppost, upon which a poster had been tacked. Moving his mouth as he sounded out the words silently, he found the sign to read the following message:

_By Decree of Her Majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle:_

_ All subjects who hold residence within the capital city are hereby cordially invited to a ball set for the evening of Saturday, December 1__st__, to formally announce the betrothal of HM Queen Elsa Marie Andersen of Arendelle to HRH Prince Johannes Andreas Westergaard of the Southern Isles._

* * *

Elsa looked at herself in the mirror, fidgeting nervously. The dress she was wearing was one of her favorites, navy-blue with a sweetheart neckline and white lace edging, and she had covered it in a thin layer of frost-pattern designs of her own invention. She had done her hair up in her more formal twist-and-bun, and had nestled the gold tiara into its proper place among the pale blonde strands. Outside, she looked the picture of poise, modesty, and grace.

Inside, she was a panicked mess.

The press conference had gone over as well as could be expected; the newspaper reporters had asked her question after question, most of them beginning with the words _how_ or _why,_ and her answers seemed to have satisfied their curiosity, at least in part. But how the public would respond, she had no idea. She knew that her council was less than pleased with the decision. _She_ would have less than pleased with the decision, had she not known that it was all a ruse. But no one could know that, save her, Anna, and Kristoff.

And Hans. That was another cause for nervousness. How would the people react to Hans? How would _she_ react to Hans? Spending a whole night in the perpetual presence of the man who'd tried to behead her was not Elsa's idea of a good time. So flustered was she that she didn't even notice when the ice that had been slowly creeping across the desk shot out and shattered the vase of flowers. She let out a little gasp of surprise. "Oh no…" She took a deep breath, trying to settle herself. "Calm yourself. Control yourself," she chanted, closing her eyes and picturing a dozen images at once- Anna, Kristoff, Olaf, Sven, Mama and Papa-

"Elsa!" a voice called, and the queen opened her eyes, startled. Anna came bounding into the room. "I'm here! I'm back!"

The queen crossed her arms, smiling good-naturedly and raising an eyebrow. Anna was covered in a number of substances, not all of which she could pinpoint. "What happened to you?"

"Pig. Pie," Anna said with a shrug as she crossed to Elsa's wardrobe, as if this sufficed as an explanation. "I mean, not a pig-pie! Pig _and _pie. And ocean." She began rummaging through the clothes. "Where's that rose dress?"

"Still recovering from the last time you wore it," Elsa said dryly, as her sister disappeared inside the wardrobe.

"Oh, right." Elsa jumped as a shoe struck the wall near her. "Sorry!"

"Please don't make a mess!" the elder said, annoyed.

"Ooh, how about this!" She jumped out of the closet, dressed a gaudy and more than a little revealing gold-and-violet gown, which Elsa had never worn.

The queen shook her head. "Mm-mm. You are _not_ wearing that to my engagement ball."

"Okay." Anna tore the dress off over her head and dove back into the closet. "Mm hm-hm…"

Elsa turned around again as she heard a delighted gasp. Anna jumped back out of the closet. "What is _this?!"_ she demanded, laughing.

The dress she had donned was quite, er, _voluptuous,_ and an obnoxious shade of orange. "Ooh! Ooh-la_-la!"_ Anna said, dancing around. "My hips are _here, _my hips are _there, _oh, pardon my behind, young man; I didn't mean to knock you down!"

Elsa chuckled. "It was just a gift."

"From who?"

"I don't know, one of the, uh, big countries." She plopped a hat on her sister's head. "Stop goofing around."

"Why, I can barely fit through the doorway!" Anna said in that ridiculous accent, trying to go to her side of the adjoined dressing rooms.

"Would you _please_ try to find something nice to wear? This is a formal occasion, you know."

"Oh, sure, very formal. Your fake engagement and everything."

_"Anna!"_ Elsa said in a sharp hiss, looking around. "I told you not to call it that. If anyone found out…"

"I know, I know. Sorry." She peeked her head out again through the door. "Hey… are you okay?"

"Hm? I'm fine; why?"

"Well… you froze over the flowers."

Elsa looked over to the vase and realized she'd forgotten to cover it up. She sighed. "Alright, I'm a little nervous."

"Me, too." She hesitated, and then walked back out, biting her lip. "To be honest, I don't like this one bit."

"I don't blame you." She nodded to the door. "How's Kristoff doing with this whole thing?"

"Eh, well, he hasn't broken anything yet or tried to kill Hans, so I'd say pretty darn fantastic." She hurried across to her side of the joint rooms again, still talking. "So anyway, not to be self-centered, but we're both kind of wondering-"

"How your real wedding is going to work with my fake one?" Elsa finished, redoing her braid to tuck a few loose strands into the pins.

"Yeah. Sorry, I'm just a little curious."

"Well, I can't be absolutely certain yet, but the main idea is once Agnar shows his true colors, I'll throw him out of the palace and then we'll have your wedding." Elsa winced. "I'm sorry, Anna."

"Oh, it's cool. Just wanted to be clear."

Elsa sighed and walked over to the doorway, leaning against the wall. "I really am sorry," she said regretfully. "You deserve to have a perfect wedding day, not one stuck between a betrayal and a war and who knows what else."

"Elsa," Anna said firmly, peeking her head back through. "It's fine. Really. It doesn't matter to Kristoff or me when or how the wedding happens. Just so long as it, you know, happens."

"It will," Elsa promised.

"Good." Anna popped back inside for a brief second, and then said, "Okay, how does this look?" She came out of the room.

The younger sister had donned a gorgeous forest-green gown, with a sweetheart collar and half-arm sleeves. The dark color set off her pale skin and fiery red hair, making her almost seem to glow. "Oh, Anna," Elsa said, smiling fondly. "You look beautiful."

"You think Kristoff will like it?" the younger said, spinning slightly.

"Like it? He'll love it," she promised. "But your hair…"

"Why? What's wrong with it?" Anna said, raising a hand to the done-up style, similar to the one she'd used for Elsa's coronation.

"Nothing's wrong with it, but you should try wearing it down."

"You think?" Anna reached up to unclip the bun, and her long red locks tumbled down. The sides were pulled back in a braided style, but the rest of it splayed across her back and shoulders. The appearance made her look like less like a little girl and more like the young woman of twenty she really was. "Do you like it better this way?"

Elsa smiled. "Now you look perfect."

"Oh, no. You look way better," her sister gushed. "I love the frost designs."

"Thank you." The two smiled at each other, and then Anna suddenly hugged Elsa.

The elder laughed. "Anna! What's gotten into you?"

"I just… I'm glad," the younger said with a smile, pulling away. "This is… exactly what I always wanted for us. Well, not the whole 'facing-treason-and-imminent-danger' sort of thing, but the 'sisters-who-share-clothes-and-laugh-and-stuff' thing. I'm glad I have a real sister now, one who I can talk to."

Elsa smiled softly. "Me too."

The clock outside suddenly chimed, and Elsa let out a little gasp. "Oh goodness, the time! You need to go!"

"Why?"

"The guests will be arriving soon. I can't come in until they're ready for my entrance, but you and Kristoff have to be there as hosts. Go on!" The blonde quickly shooed her laughing younger sister out of the room and closed the door. Then she turned back to her mirror, taking her crown.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, holding the little gold tiara in her hands, her smile faded. This wasn't a fun occasion. This was subterfuge. And she had a part to play, a part that had nothing to do with gowns and hairdos and real weddings.

Slowly, she placed the crown on her head, standing ramrod straight, her face impassive despite the troubled worry that was slowly filling her heart.

_Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't let it show._

_ Make one wrong move…_

She took a steadying breath, trying to calm the ice in her veins.

_…And _everyone_ will know._

* * *

"Introducing to you… Her Majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle, and His Royal Highness, Prince Johannes Westergaard of the Southern Isles."

The doors opened, and Elsa entered the room, inclining her head as the townspeople clapped. Hans entered in from the opposite doors, joining her on the dais. The applause was less enthusiastic for him, but- much to Elsa's surprise- she found that the majority of apathy came from the nobility present, not the peasantry.

At short length the applause subsided, leaving the two standing awkwardly side-by-side on the dais. "…Hello," Hans said after some time, hands clasped behind his back and not looking in her direction.

"Hello," she returned coolly.

He hesitated, trying to find something to say. "…It's a nice ball," he decided on finally. "Especially considering the limited preparation time."

"My thanks," Elsa replied, voice containing no hint of warmth.

"You're not much for conversation, are you?" he said as he turned to her, deciding to drop the act of cordiality.

"With you?" she replied, tone like ice. "Hardly."

"Well then," he said curtly. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go find some intelligent conversation."

"Avoid mirrors," she shot back.

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to roll his eyes at her like a petulant ten-year-old, but Hans managed it and stepped off the dais, walking away. He spotted Anna and her fiancé on the opposite side of the room and decided to avoid that particular area, leaving him with the company on either side. Such company was mainly nobility, since the common people- who it seemed had either less pride or more zest for life than the higher-ups- were dancing to the upbeat music played by several musicians in the corner.

"Ah, Prince Hans," a slightly superior voice said, catching him by the arm. Hans turned. "So glad you're here. Tell us, will there be any modifications to the princess's wedding? Say, in seating arrangements?"

The man seemed to be a dignitary from a visiting country, who clearly wanted to make sure he wasn't going to be booted off the guest list. "Regretfully, that detail hasn't quite been worked out yet," Hans explained calmly.

"What about other details?" said a slightly nosy, portly woman with a face remarkably like a pig.

"Sorry?"

"Color choices, decorations, housing arrangements for guests- there's an awful lot to do, don't you think?"

A small group was beginning to form. Hans was baffled; surely all these people knew exactly who he was and what he'd done. He could see it in their eyes. And yet, they weren't mentioning it. Diplomacy, no doubt. He cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon, ma'am; I am not too educated in the matters of, er… wedding-planning."

She gave a little laugh, like a tinkling bell. "How very like a man." The other lords and ladies laughed, as well. "Tell me, Prince Hans, what does the Queen think of all this?"

And there it was. He could see the derision in their eyes, and realized, quite suddenly, that this was no mere idle conversation: they were mocking him, in their highbred way, making a joke of such a terribly ironic situation. He felt his ears begin to burn, but had no choice but to play along. "I'm afraid I have no idea what the Queen's opinion on this matter is."

"Oh, she's very guarded, the Arendellian Queen," one of the men, a tall fellow with a flint-sharp nose, said in a voice far too nonchalant to be real. "Heaven alone knows what she thinks of the whole situation." Several snide smiles were exchanged among the group, outward expressions of the uproarious laughter they were holding back, for of course there could be no doubt what Queen Elsa must have thought about wedding her former assassin.

"And then there is the princess herself to think about," another started in, "as well as her betrothed- well, her new betrothed. Tell us, are the two grooms-to-be getting along?"

"Mr. Bjorgman and I are not very well acquainted," he answered smoothly.

"But what about Princess Anna? Surely the two of you are quite familiar."

This was the most barbed question yet, and the nobles had lost all pretenses of nonchalance- in fact, they were casting him such dark and jeering looks that they seemed to be choking off the air around him. Even as the conversation continued, something terrible was beginning to happen. Something awful that only he could see.

_Swirling snow. Ice crunching beneath his feet. The queen, fallen to the ground in front of him._

No. No. NO.

_Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't feel. Don't feel, don't feel…_

The images kept coming. A sword. Blood, everywhere. Blood, through her dress, her white-blonde hair, on him. Blood. Dead.

_Don't feel. Don't think._

He was still talking, somehow, carrying on a conversation without any actual thought to it. He heard, as if from a distance, his own voice say in a very calm and collected tone, "Princess Anna has given her consent to the agreement. As to the wedding itself, I believe it will of course have elements of the Queen's own abilities in it. It should fit the season quite well; Arendellian winters are said to be quite spectacular."

"But for a wedding? Aren't fall weddings customary?"

"The Princess and Mr. Bjorgman apparently wished for more time in their preparations. As the two occasions have been planned to coincide, I think a winter wedding will be appropriate." He took a champagne flute from a nearby servant as they passed and took a drink, trying to settle his nerves. It didn't work. Everything seemed hyper-intensified, colors and sounds and even peoples' expressions all pressing in. His legs felt like lead, or tree trunks rooted into the ground. He couldn't move a muscles. He couldn't even swallow. The world seemed to be going blotchy from the inside out and his chest ached something awful and his whole mouth tasted like it was plated in copper.

In the end, it was years of diplomacy training that saved him. Somehow he managed to unglue his feet from the ground, made some excuse, and quickly departed the ballroom. He found himself outside, somewhere- how he'd gotten there, he couldn't quite remember- and he sat down heavily on a bench.

"Come on, Hans," he muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose with a trembling hand. The image of the queen lying motionless and drenched in scarlet passed before his eyes again, and he let out a hiss through his teeth as if he'd been struck. "Get ahold of yourself. You can't do this here."

The images kept coming in spite of his words. Unbidden, there rose to his mind the picture of Anna as she'd been that day on the fjord: dead, frozen solid, her mouth open in a silent cry.

"Get- get ahold…"

The whole country stood silent before him, turned to ice.

"Just-"

Everyone dead.

_"Please…"_

Because of _him._

* * *

"Elsa? Hello, Elsa?"

A hand waved itself in front of her face, and Elsa jumped slightly, looking over. "Anna. Sorry, what was that?"

"You okay?" the princess said, looking concerned. Kristoff was frowning behind her. "I asked you if you wanted some chocolate and you didn't even respond."

"I just…" She looked over, and Anna followed her gaze to where a group of noblemen and women were laughing amongst themselves as if something uproariously funny had just occurred. "I need to handle something," Elsa said, traces of anger in her firm tone.

"Oh," Anna said, confused. "Well, okay then. See you later?"

"Mm." Elsa left, an intensely stern look on her face.

Anna looked over at Kristoff. "What do you think that was about?"

The iceman shrugged. "Hey, it's getting pretty crowded in here; you wanna go outside?"

"Yeah, sure," she agreed cheerfully. He took her by the hand and led her downstairs and out into the gardens.

They walked along for sometime, Anna popping chocolates into her mouth and talking animatedly about this or that. Kristoff just smiled at her, making a comment here and there but for the most part remaining silent. He never tired of listening to what she thought of the world, how she saw everything as being an occasion of amazement and joy. The littlest of things would draw her attention and cause her delight; Kristoff wasn't sure if it was living her whole life in one castle that caused her to see life in this manner or if it was just her wonder-filled personality, although he was inclined to think it was the later.

Eventually they found themselves in one of the many walled gardens, and Kristoff gestured to a bench, asking her if she wanted to sit down. Anna nodded happily, and he quickly brushed the snow off of it for her. Anna sat down, and he took a seat beside her. "Wow," Anna said, her voice breathless.

"What?"

"Look up."

Kristoff followed her gaze and saw that the night sky was filled with countless twinkling stars. He chuckled at her amazement and looked back at her. Her blue-green eyes seemed to almost glow in the starlight.

She noticed he was watching and looked over, tilting her head in confusion. "What?"

He grinned. "You look beautiful."

She smiled and ducked her head prettily. "Th-thanks," she stammered, and then shivered.

"You cold?"

"A little," she admitted.

"Here." He shrugged off his blue tailcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Kristoff, you don't have to do that," Anna said, blushing.

"Don't worry 'bout it; 'sides, I hate tailcoats. They never fit right."

She giggled. "But won't you be cold?"

"Anna," he said seriously, but he was smiling, "I could be freezing solid- literally- and I'd want you to have my coat."

"You mean it?" she said softly.

"Of course I do," he said, standing up. "**If I only had one word**

**Or only one thought,**

**It'd be about you,**

**And for me, that's a lot.**

**I've never had much**

**But then, my needs are few.**

**There's no man richer than me**

**So long as I have you."**

She giggled and stood as well. _"Who could've guessed it,"_ she said,

"_But here we both are._

_And so close to finding_

_What we've always searched for._

_And if I had nothing,"_ she added, taking both his hands in hers,

"_Please, know that it's true,_

_The one present I'd give_

_Would be this heart to you."_

"**And if I could make only one promise,"** Kristoff said, twirling her and making Anna laugh,

"**Here's what it'd be-"**

"_That no matter what you've got,"_ she swore,

"_You've always got me."_

"**And I've only got one life,"** he said.

"_Only one life," _she agreed.

"_**So just hear my song:**_

_**For as long as you live,"**_ they both promised,

"_**You'll never be alone."**_

"**If I had a single penny,"** he added, pulling a copper øre out of his pocket,

"**And you hadn't got one**

**You'd find it in your pocket,**

**And then I'd have none." **He slipped it into her hand.

"_And if I had one kiss_

_I'd give it to you,"_ said Anna, pecking him on the cheek.

"_Because if you had just one, I know,_

_You'd give it to me, too."_

Kristoff grinned and tried to kiss her back, but she stepped up on to the bench before he could reach her, and so he missed, tripping forward slightly. Both laughed and then continued together,

"_**And if I could make only one promise**_

_**Here's what it'd be:**_

_**That no matter what you've got**_

_**You've always got me."**_

"**And I've only got one life,"** Kristoff said, offering her his hand.

"_Only one life,"_ Anna said, accepting it.

"_**So just hear my song:**_

_**For as long as you live,**_

_**You'll never be alone."**_

Kristoff lifted her by the hand and waist and spun her just slightly, helping her down off the bench. They ended up standing in the middle of the garden, nose-to-nose. "**And I've only got one life,"** he said softly.

"_Only one life,"_ Anna echoed.

"_**So just hear my song,"**_ they sang in harmony.

"_**For as long as you live,**_

_**You'll never be alone."**_

The two smiled at each other, and then Kristoff leaned in and kissed his fiancé gently on the mouth, their figures silhouetted against the brightly shining moon behind them.

* * *

**A/N: I know it was long; if you can believe it, originally it was even longer. I split this chapter into two parts, so the second half will be up shortly! I hope you all liked it, and please review!**

**All my love and prayers, -FFcrazy15.**


	8. Chapter 6: The Ball and Its Events, Pt 2

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Hans looked over, startled, as the balcony door opened and then closed again, and bit back a groan; the very last person he wanted to see at the moment had unfortunately followed him out. Thankfully, he'd managed to calm himself down by that point, although it hadn't been easy. He hoped to God that he didn't look as unwell as he felt.

Elsa was frowning deeply, and he cleared his throat. "My apologies for such a hasty departure," he said quickly.

"Never mind that; are you alright?" She sounded genuinely concerned, which surprised him. "You look rather unwell."

"Oh, no," he lied, shaking his head. "No, I'm quite fine, thank you."

"Really?" she said doubtfully, crossing her arms. "Last I checked, nearly passing out in a crowded ballroom did not constitute 'quite fine.'"

"What?"

"You were about to faint in there, weren't you? You looked pale as a sheet, and you didn't seem to be breathing too well."

He let out a low sigh. "Was it that obvious?"

"No. Well, as I said, you did look rather pale, but I don't think anyone else noticed. Are you feeling ill?"

He laughed a little, it seemed so absurd. "No. Not ill." He swallowed. "Their distaste was just rather… palpable."

"Oh." She paused. "Well… you can't really blame them."

"No, I can't say I do." He took another slow breath. "I would just… prefer to remain outside of striking range."

"Can you imagine if you were actually marrying me?" she said with a humorless chuckle. "Putting up with that every day."

"I think I might really pass out if I attempt it," he answered dryly.

They remained in silence for a few moments- not an uncomfortable one, as Hans had been expecting, but instead it was rather… well, maybe not pleasant, but certainly not unpleasant, either. Strangely enough, Elsa seemed to be making it a point to be more cordial to him than before, and while he didn't understand it, he wasn't about to complain.

Finally, she said, "We will have to go back in at one point, you know."

"I do," he agreed with a low sigh. "Just a few seconds, if you please." She gave a brief nod, and he closed his eyes for a moment, calming himself and carefully reconstructing the mask of cool detatchment that would allow him to make it through the rest of a ball filled with people who weren't exactly his biggest fans. He opened his eyes again and turned to her. "My thanks."

"Are you sure you're alright?" she said, tone and expression still full of that same seemingly honest concern that he didn't understand.

"I'm certain. Shall we?"

She inclined her head and he offered her his arm per force of habit. Elsa raised an eyebrow but did as tradition bade, and they reentered the ball together.

Hans was incredibly conscious of the stares and glares he was receiving, but Elsa hardly seemed to notice, walking with a cool, elegant aloofness that made her appear entirely untouchable. "They're staring at us," Hans informed her, as they stopped to stand at a place near a window, which was thankfully devoid of people.

"Let them. It'd be strange if they didn't." She accepted a glass of white wine from a passing servant and took a sip. An awkward silence passed, and he wondered why she didn't leave.

"…You don't have to stay here," he said finally.

"What, go and leave you to their mercies? I may not like you, Prince Hans, but I'm not that cruel." She glanced at him, just briefly, and he knew that _she_ knew that the moment she left, the various lords and ladies of her court and the rest would again descend on him like harpies. What Hans couldn't understand, however, was _why_ she didn't want him to receive such well-deserved treatment. It seemed laughable that out of everyone who could be his defender against their malice, Elsa should fill the role. He tried not to look at her curiously, but confusion broiled within him. _Why are you protecting me?_

He cleared his throat, trying to break the silence. "In any case, we can't just keep standing here."

"I don't see why not."

"Well, _I_ can't. It's… frustrating."

"And what do you suggest I do about that?"

Hans considered it. "Care to dance?"

"I don't dance," she replied curtly.

He gave her a dubious look and crossed his arms. "You expect me to believe that the heir of the royal family of Arendelle never learned to dance?"

"I never said I _couldn't_, just that I _didn't,"_ she answered coolly.

He let out a short, irritated sigh. "What if I promised to enjoy it as little as possible?"

She raised an eyebrow, then glanced out at the crowds. They were still whispering and staring, and as much as she hated to admit it, their blatant lack of tact was beginning to get on her nerves. She looked back at Hans, who held out a hand.

"Come on," he said. "Let's give them something to whisper about."

He had such a determined, _enough-is-enough_ sort of look in his eyes that Elsa couldn't help but smirk. Rolling her eyes, she nevertheless accepted his outstretched hand and followed him out into the middle of the floor just as the band started a new song. Hans curled his glove fingers around hers, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she felt his other hand take her waist. Hans, noticing her discomfort, lightened his hold and shifted his hand upwards slightly, so it was nearer her back than her hips. Elsa glanced up at him, trying to force herself not to flush red in embarrassment, and gave a brief nod to indicate her thanks.

The song was a major-key waltz, the sort of dance Elsa had never really liked but had been required to learn as a girl. They danced in silent for several moments, before Hans chuckled. "What?" Elsa asked in a whisper.

"Now they're _really_ whispering," he said under his breath. He glanced around briefly. "And just as well, too. I think my brother was getting impatient."

"Your brother?"

"Agnar. No doubt he'll want to know how and why you agreed so easily to my proposal. This little show might appease him, at least for a few moments."

Again, silence, save for the strings and shuffling of feet. Finally, Hans commented, "You claim you don't dance, but truth be told, you are an excellent dancer, Queen Elsa."

"Is that so?" she said nonchalantly, but irritation flashed in her eyes. As he twirled her, he felt a swirl of cold against his fingers through the white gloves, followed by a sharp pain, and he let go with a quiet hiss. "You frostbit my fingers!" he snapped lowly.

"Did I? How clumsy of me," Elsa replied coolly, voice entirely unapologetic. In an undertone, she added, "You _said_ you weren't going to enjoy it."

"Well I'm certainly not _now,"_ he retorted, taking her hand again and leading her three steps backwards.

There was a slight pause, and then someone bumped into him from behind. He and Elsa broke apart as a peasant woman who was dancing with her husband apologized, "Oh, pardon me, Prince Hans," giving hima polite, if reserved, smile.

"That's quite alright," he said, surprised. The other couple moved away, and as Hans and Elsa resumed dancing, he said, "I don't understand it."

"Understand what?"

"Your subjects. I expected them to be much more vocal about their displeasure at this whole prospect, but strangely enough, the common people don't seem to object to me too much."

"No, they don't," she agreed. "A few have expressed their… dissatisfaction… with the decision, but for the most part they seem to trust my better judgment." She paused, and then said, "…I think a few may even approve."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Approve? You aren't serious."

"It seems strange to me, too. But apparently one or two still think favorably of you, because of your help during the Great Freeze."

This took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Hans felt himself slightly uplifted. _His help._ People had survived that wintry disaster because of _his help._ He'd forgotten about that. "I'm glad," he said.

Elsa glanced up at him, biting her tongue. After a moment, she said, "What did you do?"

"Pardon?"

"I know you watched over Arendelle in Anna's and my absence, but… what exactly did you do for them?"

He shrugged. "Nothing you wouldn't have done. I opened up the castle; put the kitchens on making hot food; paid doctors for their help with the sick and injured; that sort of thing."

"You say it as if it were a small favor," she said, a little impressed despite herself.

"Well, I think I more than made up my good deeds with what happened on the fjord," he pointed out, glancing away.

"That you did," Elsa agreed. She hesitated, and then added, "…But you did take care of my subjects when they needed a leader… and, all things aside, that was very… noble… of you."

His lips quirked slightly at that, a sad smile but a smile nonetheless. "I do hope you know, Queen Elsa, that despite everything, there was nothing… _underhanded_, about my aiding your people."

"Now that," she said, in a voice that sounded strangely friendly, "I can believe."

The dance ended, and the two stepped apart. Hans gave a quick bow as Elsa curtsied. "I think we made our point," she murmured with satisfaction, glancing around at the nobles who were decidedly not meeting her gaze.

"I think we did," he agreed, offering her his arm. "Shall we walk?" When Elsa appeared to debate this, he said in a lower tone, "Agnar is watching us."

She didn't turn to look, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Southern king looking at them with a scrutinizing gaze. She took Hans's arm and said aloud, "You are a very good dancer."

"I told you I would be," he agreed, as she took his arm. Elsa saw Agnar glance away at this, and she let out a low sigh of relief.

She and Hans walked a ways away, heading towards the opposite side of the ballroom. Before they could reach it, however, they were stopped by three young men, all of whom bore a striking resemblance to the fourth at her side, although his hair was auburn and theirs were all brown.

"Well, look who it is," said the middle one. "Hans, we've hardly seen you all night."

"Then it appears my plan has worked perfectly until this point. Excuse us, gentlemen," Hans said, attempting to go around them.

"Now, now, brother, no need to be so _rude,"_ said the first and eldest. "Why, you haven't even introduced us to the Queen."

Hans was looking more and more aggravated, but he complied, turning to gesture to her. "This is Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Your Majesty, these are my brothers: Princes Helge, Ivar, and Jens."

"I've heard stories of the queen, but I must say, Your Majesty, you're even lovelier in person," said the middle one- Ivar, she thought it was- as he took her hand and kissed her knuckles before she could object.

"Um- well, thank you," she said, trying not to let her disgust show on her face. "Now if you'll pardon us-"

"Yes, quite lovely indeed," said the first. She was quickly losing track of which was which, they all looked so much alike. "You must be a very happy man, Hans."

"Ecstatic," Hans answered curtly, with a charming smile but a glare in his eyes that could have burnt a hole through the wall.

"Oh, I don't doubt that. Why, I couldn't blame you if you kissed her right now."

Elsa's mouth dropped open, and she barely restrained herself from frosting over the floors in shock. "I beg your pardon?" she demanded.

"Surely it wouldn't be too forward; after all, you _are_ engaged," one of his brothers, Elsa couldn't remember which, said with a chuckle.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jens; she's obviously got no real interest in him," the second jeered. "It's a political marriage; contracts and all that."

"Well, that's all you were ever good for, Hans," the first said dismissively.

"You two are killing the party; I want to see if little Hany-kins has it in him," Jens taunted. "What do you say we make wagers, hm? Ten _kroner*_ says he chickens out?"

"I'm in," the second said. "Well, go on, Hans; do I get my money?"

By this point Elsa had flushed a deep hue of magenta, though whether from anger or embarrassment, no one could tell. Hans looked even more furious; he had a tick in his clenched jaw that wasn't going away. "Whatever happens will remain between the queen and myself," he said shortly. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have more important matters to attend to."

He turned sharply and led Elsa away. As they left, she heard one of them say, "See? I knew he wouldn't. He never had the guts."

"What a happy marriage _theirs_ is going to be," the second agreed with a laugh.

The moment they were far enough away, Hans let out an exasperated sigh. "Your Majesty, I apologize for my brothers."

"Apology accepted," she said, the blush still evident on her cheeks and now of an angrier tint. "They're certainly… unpleasant."

He snorted humorlessly. "That's one way of putting it." He nodded towards another pair of young men, who were older in age than the three and had identical features. "Those two, Caspar and Duartr, are third and fourth in line- twins, and hard to tell apart unless you know them. They're definitely more serious, but no less unpleasant. Balthazar- he's second in line, I forgot to mention him- he usually floats between talking with them and hanging on Agnar's every word. The three you met are Helge, Ivar and Jens. Tricksters and scoundrels, every one."

"Seem like your lot," Elsa commented.

"Hardly," he snorted. "Those three lack the brains to be 'my lot' in anything. They're terribly uncreative but incredibly persistent."

Something about this triggered a memory in her mind. "Were they the three who pretended you were invisible?"

He looked over, surprised. "Anna told you about that?"

"Anna tells me everything." She refrained from pointing out that the same wasn't always true in reverse.

"Ah. Yes, that was them. They gave me the silent treatment for two years; how incredibly original, right?" he said, rolling his eyes. "Not that I minded; they weren't exactly great conversationalists. Still aren't, actually."

There was something about the off-handed way he said this that made Elsa less inclined to believe him. A terrific liar Hans may have been, but Elsa was a learned deceiver herself, and she knew that everyone, including her, had a tell, and strangely enough, it seemed that Hans's was that he sounded smoother and _more_ unaffected the more he lied. In other words, he was too good to be true. _How_ _fitting,_ she decided with an dry inward chuckle.

"Erling and Frederick follow the twins; they're in charge of trade affairs, both courting princesses in southern Europe. Gunnar's commander of the entire Southern military-" Elsa spotted a brawny-looking man some ways to the side, who was laughing uproariously with some other dignitaries, "-so technically he was in charge of me for some time. He's practically engaged to a duchess in France. Then Helge, Ivar and Jens, and then Karl. He's a ladies' man; he's probably at the punch bowl- there he is," he said with a nod, glancing towards the refreshment table, where a very handsome prince was surrounded by a gaggle of fawning bachelorettes. "He has any number of princesses and court ladies just dying for his proposal. And that's Lief," he added, gesturing to the last, a young man closer in age than most of the rest and standing off to the side, as if uncertain of his place. "The second youngest. Fairly quiet; I never minded him much. And then me."

"Are none of them married?" Elsa questioned, finding this odd with such a large family.

Hans shook his head. "It's Southern tradition that the king marries first, and none of my _dear_ brothers would dare cross Agnar."

"Except you," she said wryly.

He nodded wryly. "Except me."

"They're all in alphabetical order," she noted. The _but not you_ went unsaid, yet Hans caught it anyway.

"All my brothers are named after some long-dead family member. I was a bit of a surprise; the court doctors had told mother she wouldn't be able to have any more children. I was born quite early, too, so they hadn't found a name for me yet; mother decided on Johannes because she liked it, and that was that."

Elsa looked as if she were about to say something more, before she realized they'd made a full circle of the ballroom. "Do you think we've sated your brother's concern?" she asked under her breath.

Hans surreptitiously glanced back at Agnar, who was conversing with some nobles from another country. "I believe so. You won't have to tolerate my presence any longer, Your Majesty," he added, but strangely enough, he didn't sound sarcastic. If anything, he sounded… apologetic?

She cleared her throat. "Good evening, Prince Hans." She turned and headed in the direction of Kristoff and her sister, who had just reentered the great hall.

Hans watched her go, and then bit his tongue, turning. Agnar was watching him again. He quickly crossed the distance between them as Agnar banished the nobles with a polite word. When the area around them was relatively clear, Agnar said, "Well, Hans?"

"The Queen is hardly happy about the matter, but she's compliant," he reported, watching Elsa talk to Anna and the princess's suitor.

"Tell me, how _did_ you manage to convince her to accept the proposal?" Agnar questioned nonchalantly.

"I did what you asked; why does it matter how I accomplished it?"

"Don't trifle with me, Hans," Agnar said, turning to look at him with a dangerous sharpness in his eyes. "This isn't a game. You would do well to remember who's the cat, and who's the mouse."

Hans felt his stomach twist, but he kept his composure. "Of course, your Majesty."

"Very good. Now: how exactly did you manage to gain her affections in the space of a single night?"

"You overcomplicate things, my king," Hans said simply, scanning the dance floor. "I didn't have to woo the queen; all I had to do was convince her that it was in her best political interest to make her agree."

Agnar raised an eyebrow. "Did you now?"

"Please. Did you think she came up with that reasoning she gave to the council on her own? The queen is an utter fool, untested in the ways of court life, and easily manipulated. She doesn't have to fall in love with me; she just has to believe she's doing the right thing."

"Hm." The elder of the pair seemed to be considering this. "Well, I'll admit, Hans, I'm slightly impressed. But it's not enough."

"Pardon?"

"I want the Queen's trust- and that means you have to make her trust _you._ So romance her. Enchant her. If she is truly a fool, then it should be an easy task. Am I understood?"

Green looked into green, and neither betrayed anything. "Impeccably," Hans answered.

Agnar smiled. "Good." He turned and walked away, leaving Hans wondering who exactly was deceiving whom.

* * *

*****_**Krone:**_** a unit of Norwegian and Danish currency, consisting of one hundred **_**øre**_**; similar to a pound, euro or dollar. (Plural: **_**kroner).**_

**A/N: Here you are, folks! Shorter than the last, but I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!**


	9. Chapter 7: What Happened on Sunday

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: So I decided to post a Sunday-set chapter on an actual Sunday! I know it's earlier than usual, but I hope you'll all enjoy it!**

* * *

Sunday morning after the ball dawned bright, cold and clear. Anna grimaced as the sunlight streamed in through her window and curled up tighter under the covers.

_Tunk-tunk-tunk,_ came the knock on the door. That was puzzling, because Kai didn't usually knock, but rather spoke through the door. "Mm-hm…?" she mumbled, only half asleep.

"Anna? It's me. You up yet?"

"Huh?" She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Kristoff?"

"Uh, yeah. Who else would it be?" Kristoff said with a chuckle from the other side of the door. "You getting up?"

"Mm…"

He heard her trail off, and then a snore. He grinned and shook his head; Anna was the worst at getting up in the morning. "Anna, you've gotta get up or you'll be late."

"Mm… tell them… I'll go tomorrow…"

"Aw, c'mon, Feistypants." At her lack of answer, he decided to lay down his ace. "The kitchen made hot chocolate."

There was a pause, and then the shuffling of feet. When the door opened, a yawning Anna with terrible bedhead was rubbing her eyes and blinking up at him. "Okay," she sighed. "You win."

He grinned. "I always do."

* * *

"Your Majesty?" a voice said from the hall side of her bedroom door.

"Come in, Kai," Elsa called, not turning from the mirror as she pinned her twin braids up into her usual coronet. The door opened, and the head footman peeked his head in.

"Just checking to make sure you were awake, your Majesty. Although I don't know why I bother," he said with a chuckle. "You're always up on time. Just like your father; he never could sleep past eight in the morning."

Elsa smiled. "Papa always was an early riser." She turned. "Is Anna up?"

"I let Sir Kristoff wake her."

"And the visiting dignitaries?"

"I've set the other footmen on it, m'Lady."

"Good, good." She bit her lip, fixing a loose strand in her hair. Her whole demeanor seemed absent-minded and nervous.

Kai noticed and frowned. "Your Majesty, if you don't mind me asking, you seem… well, rather flustered."

"I'm fine," she said, sounding quite weary although it was only nine in the morning.

Kai knew she was lying, but didn't intrude. "Yes, m'Lady." He turned to go, and then hesitated. "Your Majesty… Queen Elsa." She looked over at him, surprised. "You don't have to go through with this. The contract can be avoided; no one would blame you in the slightest."

"I know, Kai," she said with a sigh. "I do. But I have to do what is best for Arendelle."

"I know, but the thought of you, marrying that terrible man-" He stopped suddenly, realizing he'd stepped out of his place. "My apologies, m'Lady. I forgot myself."

"It's alright." She gave him a tired smile. "I'll see you at the church, Kai."

He inclined his head. "Yes, m'Lady." He left.

As the door closed, Elsa sighed and looked around. For more than a year, she had felt free and accepted and content. Now, it was as if she were being forced back into a cage of fear and secrecy. She hated it. She'd learned the hard way that honesty was the best policy.

_Except when being honest could end up with you dead._

She straightened her crown and waved her hand, creating a snowflake-lace veil beneath it and two lace gloves. _All right. Let's put on a show._

* * *

Although it was only nine-thirty and half an hour until Mass officially started, the church was not entirely empty. Not that one could tell simply by glancing in, since the space was silent and not even the bishop had entered it yet.

It was the first real peace and quiet Hans had found in days, and he was more than happy to take advantage of it. After spending a year and a half in solitary confinement, the prince was not entirely comfortable being suddenly shoved back into the largely hostile public eye. The silence of the large room, the stillness, was a balm to his troubled mind, although it was accompanied by a twinge of guilt that told him he really didn't belong here.

Unfortunately, the peace and quiet did not last as long as he would have liked, for at around nine forty-five or so, people started to enter the church for Sunday Mass. Quickly, he retreated to the back of the choir loft, in the corner between one of the arching supports and the wall. The space was slightly darker and allowed him to be easily hidden in the shadows, and from there he watched the people come in.

The first, of course, was the royal family and the princess's chosen suitor, a man whom Hans recognized but of whom he couldn't quite remember the name. Anna had donned a deep russet dress and followed her suitor inside, who had apparently cleaned himself up a bit for Sunday church. Elsa was the third to enter, wearing an indigo-and-violet dress, as well as a chapel veil and gloves she'd appeared to have made herself. Much to Hans's surprise, Elsa, Anna and the young man didn't take the front right pew, as would be expected from royalty; instead, they sat down somewhere in the middle, with the suitor and queen on either side of the princess.

Following them were several young men, all dressed in tailcoats and shiny boots. Hans snorted quietly to himself. Not a one of his brothers could be called "pious" in any sense of the word; he hadn't seen them set foot inside a church for years and was certain they were only doing it to appear trustworthy to the queen. His brothers, of course, took the opportunity to sit in the very front, and the youngest prince couldn't help roll his eyes. Then, he frowned, noticing something. "One, two, three…"

Eleven. Not twelve, but eleven. He scanned the row, trying to see who was missing. It didn't take long to realize that the only royal not present was the eldest, King Agnar. Hans pondered this for a moment, and then disregarded it with a shrug.

After them there entered dozens of noblemen and women from visiting countries, and then the townspeople took their seats. By the time the bishop (the same one who'd crowned Elsa two summers ago, he noticed) started the Mass, the little stave church was packed to bursting, having swelled to twice its normal congregation size.

There was no choir to fill the loft that day, so nobody noticed that Hans was present, for which he was grateful. The old Latin he'd once known, now half-forgotten through disuse, was oddly soothing, and he closed his eyes.

_…"Shh, shh…"_

_ The little boy stopped fidgeting and looked up at his mother. The queen with dark hair and green eyes smiled at her youngest son. "Hush, Hans, you must be very quiet," she whispered. "Or the good bishop will forget the words! We wouldn't want that, would we?"_

_ Hans pouted. "But I'm _bored."

_ "Hm. I can fix that. Here; let me show you a game." She clasped her hands as if praying, but with her fingers on the inside. "Here is the church," she said, showing him her folded hands. "And here is the steeple." She put her two pointer fingers up into a triangle. "Open the doors…" She moved her thumbs apart, and Hans peered in delight. "And see all the people!" She waggled her fingers._

_ Hans gasped. "Show me, show me!"_

_ "Shh," she whispered again, and he quickly quieted down. She did it for him once more, and then Hans clasped his own hands and copied her actions. She nodded and smiled, and then went back to listening to the sermon as the boy repeated the simple little poem over and over in his head, until he was finally satisfied…_

"Amen," the crowd murmured in unison, and Hans opened his eyes, startled. How long had he been asleep? And such a strange dream, too… he hadn't dreamt about mother in years…

He must've dozed off for quite some time, because the Mass was over shortly thereafter, and the people filed out of the back. Hans watched as Elsa thanked the bishop and then walked out the church doors, banishing her snowflake veil with a wave of her hand.

He heard the doors close and leaned back against the pew he was sitting in, glad that he hadn't been spotted. All he had left to do was wait a few minutes until everyone was gone, and then leave unnoticed. So preoccupied was he with this plan that he didn't even notice the slight tap of footsteps ascending the loft's stairs, or the figure that reached the top of them, until he heard a voice say, "Hello, son."

Hans started and turned, surprised. The bishop was looking back at him, an eyebrow raised. "Oh. Um-" He quickly got to his feet. "Sorry. I know I'm not supposed to be up here."

"No, that's quite alright. Although you know, people are bound to think you suspicious if you keep lurking in the shadows."

Hans couldn't help but chuckle ruefully at this. "And I suppose my having tried to kill the queen I'm now engaged to doesn't help, either?"

The bishop smiled dryly. "No, it doesn't." He nodded towards the open nave of the church below. "I noticed you didn't sit down with the others."

"I don't belong with the others." He looked around the wooden church, now empty. "I don't belong in here at all."

Willum let out a small sigh through his nose. There was silence for a moment, and then the bishop said softly, "'…But the tax collector, standing far off, would not so much as lift up his eyes towards Heaven; but struck his breast, saying: 'O God, be merciful to me a sinner.' I say to you, this man went down into his house justified…'" He smiled at Hans. "I'm not here to throw you out, son. If you wish, we could talk?"

Hans debated this, and the nodded ironically. "It would be good to talk to someone who doesn't seem like he wants to see me beheaded."

Willum chuckled a little. "That, my son, is the very last thing I want to see." He nodded towards the pew. "Why don't we sit down? I have the feeling this may take a while."

* * *

The castle seemed oddly quiet when he returned, which was strange since it was housing so many extra people. He assumed that many of the nobles were either resting from their previous day's journeys or walking around the town. Since Hans had no desire to do either at the moment, he took to exploring the castle.

The halls were empty, for the most part, which was good since he wasn't currently feeling inclined towards conversation. Eventually, his wanderings led him to a dusty old corridor, lined with doors on either side. He poked his head inside one and, and, upon finding it empty, entered it and shut the door behind him.

It was abandoned and dusty, just like the hall, and apparently hadn't been in use for many years. There was a desk, a bookshelf with trade negotiations from many years previous, a small side-table which held an old wooden chess set in the small cubby beneath, and, oddly enough, no desk chair. With nothing better to do, he retrieved the chess set and placed it on the old carpet, sitting down beside it. Many an hour he had passed as a child playing himself at chess, when his far older brothers were too busy to bother and the younger ones too spiteful to care. He placed the last piece, and then opened by moving the right knight in towards a center square in front of the pawn row.

He was about halfway through a game and the white side was winning by a slim margin when the doors suddenly burst open. He looked up, startled, as Elsa rushed into the room, dress fluttering madly as she slammed the door behind her, gulping down air. She turned and saw Hans staring at her, and quickly drew herself up. "Um, hello."

"Hello," he answered, just as surprised.

"Well, I- I suppose this looks rather strange, doesn-" She cut off suddenly, tilting her head as if she could hear something. Her eyes went wide, and she hurried over to the desk. "Don't tell them I'm here!" she whispered.

"What?"

"It's- just don't let them know!" She dove behind the desk. Hans looked back at the door, baffled and wondering who "they" could possibly be.

A moment later, his question was answered when one of the queen's political advisors burst into the study. "Oh," he said, drawing short when he saw Hans standing there. "Er, greetings, Prince Hans." His tone was polite but contained a note of hostility. "Have you seen the queen?"

"Queen Elsa? I'm afraid I haven't; why?" he lied smoothly.

"Ah. Well. She seems to be nowhere to be found; I need to speak with her on a _very _important matter."

"Oh? What sort of matter?"

The man appeared to visibly restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "Nothing that requires _your_ attention, young prince_._ Well, if you see her, do inform a servant for me?"

"Naturally. Have a good day."

A little miffed at having been unofficially dismissed by the prince, the lord swept out of the study, slamming the doors behind him. Elsa peeked out her head from behind the desk. "Is he gone?"

Hans listened, and then nodded. "He's walking away. I don't blame you for hiding." He wrinkled his nose and pulled his lips down, imitating the lord's face and tone as he said, "'Nothing that requires _your _attention, young prince.' He must be a real joy at palace parties."

She couldn't help but chuckle at that. "That's a fair imitation, actually."

"It's a talent. Why were you avoiding him? Other than the obvious dislike of having to hold a conversation with him."

She huffed, annoyed. "He and the others want me to discuss some silly wheat barrels that went missing on one of the trade ships. Six days a week I sign papers, negotiate trade, deal with petty squabbles and listen to _them_ prattle on about problems I can already solve _myself!_ But Heaven forbid the Queen have one day out of seven to catch her breath!" She suddenly remembered to whom she was speaking and cleared her throat. "But that's official business." She glanced around. "What exactly _are_ you doing in here?"

He nodded to the chess set on the ground. "Playing chess."

"Against yourself?" she questioned, walking over.

"Obviously. Don't you?"

"Well of course, occasionally…" She chuckled again. "The only problem is that no matter what, I always lose."

"Ah, my condolences. You see, _I_ always win."

She smiled a little, and he thought that it wasn't so bad of a smile- certainly much better than her scowl. "I suppose it is all a matter of mindset, isn't it?" She turned towards the door as if to leave. "I'd best be going."

"I wouldn't, if I were you," he said calmly.

"Why?"

"Do you really want to go out where they might find you again? They won't research this room, but if you leave you risk being caught."

Elsa appeared to debate this, and then sighed. "I suppose I'd better stay here for at least a little while, until I can get away safely." She looked around the room, which was fairly bare, aside from a few chairs, a fire and a bookshelf of old trade records. "Although it seems there isn't much to do…" She noticed the chess set again, and both glanced at each other. After a moment, she sighed and sat down. He did the same.

They reset the pieces and then began to play, Elsa moving first since she was white. Within five minutes, he had taken her queen, both knights, several pawns, the left bishop and had her king trapped. "Checkmate," he said calmly, reaching across the board to tip over the piece.

She glared at him icily. "Rematch."

But much to her dismay, he won again.

And again.

And again.

After his fifth win, she gave a disgruntled sigh and began to pack up the pieces into their wooden box. He raised an eyebrow. "No rematch this time?"

"No. I know when I've been beat." She eyed him shrewdly. "Where did you learn to play like that?"

"My brothers and I were all taught chess professionally. It was meant to increase strategic abilities and critical thinking."

"Oh." The room temperature had suddenly dropped a few degrees, and both knew he'd said the wrong thing. As memories of exactly _how_ strategic he could be flooded their minds, each looked anywhere but at the other.

Hans was the first to recover, getting to his feet and taking great care not to meet the queen's gaze as he headed for the door. "I should go."

"No." He turned back, surprised. She, too, was startled at how strong her own voice sounded, but she continued. "No, don't. If we're going to work together, then we have to learn to tolerate at least being in the same room as each other." She smiled dryly. "After all, what's the use in planning treason if you can't even stand speaking to your co-conspirator?"

"That does seem somewhat unreasonable," he agreed grudgingly. "That reminds me, I have something important to tell you: I told the bishop."

She stared. "What?"

"The bishop; I informed him that the wedding was fake. Confidentially, of course. He says his help is ours, if we want it. He seemed trustworthy; I hope I wasn't mistake about that."

"You weren't; Bishop Willum has long been a good friend to the crown- and to me. I wonder why I didn't think of telling him my-" She yawned suddenly. "Myself."

She walked a few feet away to the window, fixing her hair for the nth time in the reflection of the glass. As Hans watched, he realized that she had purplish rings under her eyes, and her whole demeanor appeared exhausted. He couldn't blame her; his own experience had taught him that treason and lies led to many a sleepless night, though perhaps not for exactly the same reasons. "You need to rest," he informed her.

"What?" she said, turning.

"You need to rest. It's obvious you didn't sleep a wink last night."

"Since when did you suddenly start caring about my well-being?" she retorted, annoyed at being told what to do.

"Since it started affecting _my_ ability to keep my head on my shoulders. Not to mention _your own."_

In response, he got a fistful of snow to the face. When he managed to wipe it away, spluttering, he saw Elsa's angry glare. "What was that for?!" he demanded, furious.

"Oh, I don't know; maybe just a veritable threat from the man who I ought to have locked up in the dungeons the moment I saw him? You have some nerve," she snapped. "That or a death wish."

"Well if you want to kill me, you'll have to take a number; my execution schedule's pretty full," he shot back.

"Look at you. You haven't changed a bit," she said through gritted teeth.

"You're one to talk."

"Traitor!"

"Ice Queen!"

They glared at each other for a long moment, before Elsa sighed. "Tolerate each other, right? Looks like we're off to a great start."

"No kidding." He paused, and then said, "Allow me to rephrase that: you look tired, and understandably so. It would be _beneficial_ for you to get some rest."

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes and played along. "Your suggestion is… reasonable-" She almost stopped right there at the slightly superior smile he developed, but continued, "-and I will take it to heart."

"There. Now was that so hard?" he said patronizingly.

"Like pulling teeth." She bit her tongue and tried again. "I think I'll go take a nap."

Seeing that she was making an effort, Hans decided it was his turn to be civil. "I'll go first and check for that annoying lord," he offered. "If I don't come back in two minutes, it means you're clear." He headed for the doors.

"Hans," Elsa said, on impulse. He glanced back. "Were… were your brothers really going to behead you?"

"Well, they were going to have me hung," he answered, in that terribly nonchalant voice, "but, you know, same difference."

Elsa shuddered unconsciously. Arendelle didn't employ capital punishment, but she knew there were other countries that did. To sentence your own brother to death… she could never, not in a million _years,_ imagine doing that to Anna. No matter what.

"Don't worry, your Majesty" he added grimly. "They might still get their chance." And before she could reply, he'd left.

* * *

The town was covered in a fluffy layer of snow, which was surprisingly small despite the fact that it was late November. Olaf laughed and skipped around, kicking at the little snow piles. He loved summer to death, of course, but he'd learned to adore winter, too. _After all,_ he thought to himself happily, _winter means candy canes and Christmas trees and, oh, oh, more snowmen! _Everyone needed friends, and although Elsa had wisely decided not to build any more living snowmen (after all, creating life was a gift to be taken seriously), her slightly goofy creation liked to make imaginary friends, especially if his real ones happened to be busy at the moment.

That was what he was about to do now. As Olaf went around an emptier part of the village looking for twigs for arms, humming a tune he'd heard somewhere but couldn't quite remember the words to, he found a series of footprints leading to a quiet square. Gasping with delight, he hurried off in their direction.

When he heard the voices, he intended to walk right out into the middle of the town square, but stopped as he realized that the voices weren't happy ones. Confused, Olaf crept forward and peeked his head around a brick wall.

There in the center of the square, just in front of a frozen-over fountain, were two figures. One he recognized as the Southern King, but the other was, well… _scary._

It was really weird, Olaf decided as he pulled back and hid himself against a wall, listening to the conversation, because that woman looked so much like Elsa, and yet so _different._ Her skin wasn't just pale; it was practically white as snow. Even her hair was white, and her eyes and lips almost devoid of color. When she spoke, her tone wasn't warm like Elsa's; instead, it was biting and icy, and he felt sure that if he could feel cold, he would have shivered.

"-This is getting ridiculous. You've been here for over a week; surely you must have found something by now!"

"I'm only following your instructions," the king ground out. "If something is amiss-"

"If something is amiss, it is because _you_ are an incompetent _fool_ who cannot accomplish even this simple task!"

"This is hardly a walk in the courtyard!"

Her face was furious. "I'll remind you," she hissed, "That I have collected thousands of these shards on my own; I would have though you capable of finding a measly three pieces! And if you cannot fulfill your end of the bargain, then I have no obligation to fulfill _mine._ Are we clear?"

"Crystal," the king answered, although his voice sounded testy and short.

She sighed, still clearly irritated. "Luckily for you, I can sense that there is a shard somewhere nearby, but I can't tell exactly where from. I need you to find it. When you do, summon me and I will return to collect it."

"Of course." Olaf heard a roaring, whistling sort of sound, like a blizzard, and then the king came walking back through. Olaf pressed his little snow body against the wall, holding his breath. He breathed a sigh of relief when the king had passed him by without noticing him, and then peeked his head around the wall. His mouth dropped open.

The woman was gone!

* * *

**A/N: While I know that at this point, Norway (and the majority of Scandinavia) would probably have been Lutheran, in the movie, Elsa was crowned by a bishop. Also, in his many fairytales, Hans Christian Andersen made specifically Catholic religious references, so to keep things consistent, I'll be taking my cues from him. I will endeavor to offer translations and explanations for anything that may be unclear to non-Catholic and/or non-Christian readers. For example, the "veil" that Elsa is wearing was a chapel veil which women would wear to church at the time.**

**As a side note, my PM box is always open to anyone who has questions or concerns about the Faith. : ) If you have a genuine question or just would like to talk, feel free to PM me.**

**All my love and prayers!**

**-FFcrazy15**


	10. Chapter 8: Regarding Jewels and Bifocals

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: Anna and Kristoff's wedding is set three days before Christmas, i.e., the 22****nd****. In this story, I'm having advent last exactly four weeks since that's easier to count, meaning the day at the beginning of this chapter is Nov 28****th****.**

* * *

"Anna, how long until I can make official decrees?"

The princess grinned and looked up at her suitor, who was staring grumpily down at a trade ledger. "Let me see, um…" She pretended to count in her head.

"Twenty-four days," Elsa said, not looking up from her forms. "She has a countdown in her room."

Anna grinned impishly. "It's true. Why do you ask?"

"I was going to ban Mondays," he groused. The three were sitting in their respective desks in the library, doing their separate piles of paperwork. Anna's was significantly smaller than Kristoff's, and theirs combined didn't even reach the top of Elsa's. The queen was peering through her half-moon reading glasses, which were perched precariously on the tip of her nose, as she methodically signed and sealed at least a dozen letters.

"Oh, don't hate Mondays, Kristoff!" Anna said with a smile. "They're a whole one-seventh of your life!"

"Can I still hate filling out ledgers? These things are giving me a headache." He rubbed his temples as he squinted down at the tiny ledger boxes. "I can hardly see the letters anymore."

Elsa glanced up at this in surprise, and then stood up and walked over. "Do you always squint like that when you read?"

"Huh?" He looked up, startled.

"Just- go back to what you were doing for a moment." He did so, and she nodded. "I thought so. Here; try these." She took off her own glasses and handed them to him.

He took them and looked at them dubiously. "I don't think these are going to help."

"Just try them, Kristoff," Anna urged.

"But-"

_"Kristoff."_

Her adorably fierce little frown won the battle, and Kristoff put on the glasses with a sigh. He started to read the ledgers again, and after a moment, looked up, annoyed. "Okay, what's your point?"

"You need eyeglasses," Elsa said simply, taking her pair back from him. "Anna can go with you to the village to help you find a pair."

"What? No; I'm good," he protested.

"Oh c'mon, Kristoff; it'll be fun!" Anna urged.

"Seriously, Anna, I'm fine."

"Are you worried you'll look silly? Because I'm sure we can find you a pair that'll fit fine."

"I'm not worried about looking silly!" he exclaimed, standing up. Anna blinked, surprised, and he relented slightly. "Look, glasses are expensive and I don't want you to have to pay for them."

"Why not?" she said, looking genuinely confused.

Her befuddlement was so endearing that Kristoff couldn't help smiling a little, realizing that she was only trying to help. "Because you already do so much for me, and I feel like I never give anything back to you," he explained honestly. "I know you think that sounds dumb, but it's the truth. Besides, I've gotten along fine without them for the last twenty years. I don't want you footing that kind of a bill for me when I really don't need them."

"Actually, Kristoff, Anna won't be 'footing the bill'; I will," Elsa explained. "As your employer, I'm obliged provide the minimum tools required for you to do your job." When he still looked doubtful, she added, "It's not a handout; it's a necessity of your work. If you can't even do your monthly totals without getting a migraine, then glasses are a necessity."

He appeared to debate this inwardly, and then pointed to Elsa. "You're _sure_ it's not a handout."

"Kristoff, the ice harvesters have never been more productive than under your supervision, nor, it seems, more satisfied. You're an efficient businessman who's making me a lot of money while keeping me on good terms with the people; trust me, this isn't a handout."

"Great! Let's go!" Anna said excitedly, grabbing him by the arm. Kristoff followed willingly, unable to keep from grinning. Anna's happiness was contagious- and besides, anything had to be better than ledgers.

* * *

"…And here. Try these."

The optometrist handed him a pair of round glasses. Kristoff tried them on and looked in the little vanity mirror the doctor had provided.

He looked like a bug-eyed idiot.

Anna winced as he looked up at her with his _you've got to be kidding me_ expression. "Do you happen to have anything less, um-"

"Ridiculous looking?" Kristoff finished as he took off the spectacles, having lost most of his patience over the course of the last hour.

"We're just looking for a pair of reading glasses," Anna amended.

The optometrist, a skinny man with rather large eyes of his own, huffed and said, "I'll see what we have in the back." He disappeared into the anterior of the shop, and Kristoff took off the glasses.

"I wonder if he keeps all the good stuff in the back," the ice-harvester muttered just loud enough for Anna to hear. The princess clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles.

Apparently this was an accurate assumption, because a minute later the doctor came back and handed him a pair of squarish half-rimmed glasses. Kristoff tried them on, and then looked up at Anna. She squealed.

"Oh, you look so _cute!"_ she said happily.

"See, I liked them until you said that."

"Oh, hush. We'll take them."

They walked out of the shop with Anna bubbling with glee. "Try them on again!"

"Are you kidding?" Kristoff said with a laugh. "I'm not wearing these in public!"

"Oh come on!"

"Nuh-uh. These remain our little secret. I'm not wearing them except when I've got to do ledgers." At her disappointed pout, he added grudgingly, "…And maybe every once in a while to dinner, since you like them so much."

Anna was just agreeing animatedly to this when all her jumping around caused her to crash into another pedestrian, knocking him down. "Oh! Sorry-!" she called, and then stopped. _"You."_

Hans stood and dusted himself off. "Apologies, Princess; I didn't see you there."

"You didn't, my-" Kristoff started, but Anna cut him off, holding up a hand with a look that clearly said, _I got this._

"What are _you_ doing out _here?"_ she said icily, and there was a fierceness in her eyes that made even Kristoff shiver slightly. Only when Anna was really, _really_ angry did she ever become this hostile.

To his credit, Hans held his composure unblinkingly. "I was under the impression I was free to walk about the town."

"Yeah, well, if I had my way, you wouldn't be free to do _anything_ except wallow in prison for the rest of your sorry life," she said coldly. "Just so we're _totally_ clear."

There was a moment's silence, and then Hans inclined his head slightly. "I understand, Princess. Again, my apologies." He gave a short bow, and then walked around her and left.

Kristoff glanced back at him, and then over to his irate fiancé. Anna was still fuming, her face flushed red with anger. Kristoff whistled. "Remind me never to get on your bad side.

"Yeah, well, so long as you don't stomp on my heart and then try to kill my sister, we should be just fine," Anna said furiously. Then, she shook her head, red braids swinging. "Sorry. Let's not let one creep spoil the whole day, huh?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

* * *

The town was alive with buzz and sunshine, even despite the cold time of year, but King Agnar noticed none of it.

The Snow Queen had said that there was a shard nearby, one that had not been here before. That could only mean it had arrived with one of the nobles. It made sense; after all, the little fragments were terribly powerful, as he well knew, and powerful people naturally gravitated towards powerful objects. When his own father, the late king, had died, the old man's body had been burnt to a cinder before they could prepare it for the funeral. The Snow Queen had arrived shortly thereafter and taken the shard again, to wherever she kept them all. Agnar pondered briefly on the possibility that the fiery shard in the little box, hidden in a little box in his pocket until he received permission to use it, could have been that which his father had held; then, he dismissed the idea. So what if it was? It hardly mattered in the long scheme of things.

In any case, he returned his thoughts to where this new shard could possibly be. If the lord or lady who possessed it realized its potential, it would be hidden in the castle, no doubt; if not, then perhaps it had been put to some other purpose?

This thought was confirmed almost as soon as he'd had it, for inside the little silver box in his inner jacket pocket, the shard _burned._ Even through his clothes he could feel the metal turning warm, and smiled slightly, knowing that the other shard had to be somewhere near.

He glanced around. There were several shops, any of which could contain the person who held the demon glass. His eyes landed on the jeweler's shop, and headed in that direction on impulse.

Inside the shop, a noblewoman was talking to the shop-owner. "I need this refitted _before_ the wedding," she said, nose held high. "It is incredibly important that my request be met."

"What seems to be the problem?" the jeweler asked.

"Why, can't you tell?" She sounded indignant. "This necklace is a _family heirloom;_ it's been in my mother's family for centuries! But the strangest thing has happened since I arrived here; the silver around the middle gem has been wearing thin. The stone itself is poking through!"

"I will attempt to see what I can do, Madame," the jeweler said, trying to placate her.

"Hm. Well. I'll be back before the twenty-second." She walked out of the shop, and as Agnar pretended to inspect some pieces in a showcase, he glanced over at the necklace.

It was silver, of course, with several blue gems lining the collar. The middle jewel, however, was different; it was thin and encased all the way around with silver, and was of a different color and luster. The light refracted off it in such a way that it almost seemed to glow, a cold, harsh blue. Agnar felt the box burn hot again. _That was it._

"Are you looking for something special?" the shopkeeper asked, and the king looked up.

He gave a joyless smile. "You could say that."

"Anything I could help you with?"

"I admire that ring there, the emerald one; is it for sale?"

"It is."

"I'll take it. Cost is no objective."

The shopkeeper nodded and removed the ring from the case. "I'll go wrap it up for you. Just a minute, if you please."

The shopkeeper picked up the necklace, and Agnar's eyes followed it. When the man placed the necklace into a safe behind the counter, the Southern king memorized the combination, looking back at the case just as the shopkeeper turned around again.

As the jeweler disappeared into the back of the store, Agnar quickly ducked around the counter and unlocked the safe, taking the necklace and then shutting the safe again. He hid the necklace in his jacket and went back to admiring the case. When the shopkeeper returned with the ring hidden in a small wooden box, Agnar paid and thanked him richly, confident that the storekeeper didn't suspect a thing.

The Southern king walked out of the shop feeling rather pleased with himself. Surely the jeweler wouldn't notice the necklace was gone for at least a few days, when he went to start work on it, and by then any number of customers could have stolen it. By the time the man finally got around to remembering him, well, there would be a much larger crisis in Arendelle than a misplaced piece of jewelry.

He threw the emerald ring, box and all, into the snow and walked on, smiling grimly at the people all around him. _Enjoy the sunlight, while you can._ For indeed, a crisis was coming. And when it did, sunlight would not touch the northern country again. Only fire, ice, and darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it! Please review, and have a good evening, folks!**


	11. Chapter 9: A Day in Town, Part 1

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

With so many people staying in one castle, Hans was finding it almost claustrophobic if he didn't leave every day to go walk around the town. In accordance with Elsa's theory that the villagers were less displeased about his apparent claiming of the throne than the foreign aristocrats, the townspeople usually didn't treat him particularly unkindly. Arendellians were a polite people, and even when pushed to their wits' ends, they seemingly preferred to avoid confronting him directly and simply didn't speak to him unless he spoke to them first. The nobles, on the other hand, afforded him no mercy in their condescension, either choosing to ignore him completely (which he didn't mind), or mocking him in their highbrow manner that he found incredibly irritating.

It was for this reason that he was planning on going out into the town again that day at noon. He didn't notice as he put on his gray overcoat when a figure appeared in the doorway behind him. "Going out?"

He turned. Agnar was looking back at him, eyes calculating. Hans suddenly felt like a small child again, shrinking under his eldest brother's cold scorn. He quickly looked away, buttoning his coat. "I am. What's it to you?"

"You're wasting valuable time." Agnar strode into the room, eyes flashing. "I told you to romance the queen."

"The queen is not easily romanced."

"When was the last time you spoke to her?"

Hans considered lying, but decided against it. "…Sunday."

"So you have gone two days without so much as seeing her?" Hans opened his mouth to reply, but Agnar cut him off. "I have no desire to hear your feeble excuses. Either you get to work, or I start making things difficult."

Hans wanted to lash back, but he bit his tongue. "Understood… my King."

"Hm. We'll see." Agnar turned on his heels and left.

Hans glared in his direction, and then ran his fingers through his hair, annoyed. When he was quite sure Agnar was gone, he went off in search of Queen Elsa.

He found her in her section of the library, although she seemed to be taking a break from her work and was reading a book. She looked up as he approached but waited for him to speak. Hans took a seat in the armchair beside her and said, "We need to talk."

"I assumed as much," she replied, taking off her glasses and setting them on the side table. "Is there some sort of trouble?"

He glanced around and then said in a lower voice, "Agnar isn't as pleased with my 'progress' as I'd hoped."

"I've already agreed to marriage; what more does he want?" she demanded.

"Frankly? Your trust. Or rather, your trust in me, and in him by extension."

"What are you hinting at?"

Hans rolled his eyes. "He's ordered me to romance you."

Elsa snorted. "He has high ambitions."

"He isn't kidding, your Majesty. Either I provide him with some concrete evidence that we're forming a relationship, or else."

"Or else what?"

"He didn't specify," he answered grimly.

Elsa closed the book, sighing in annoyance. "Alright, so romance. What's romantic?"

"Don't look at me," he said defensively. "I don't know the first thing about romance."

"You're the one who conned my sister into thinking you were Prince Charming," she pointed out testily.

"That wasn't romance; that was listening to what she had to say and telling her what she wanted to hear. My brother isn't as naïve as your sister; we're going to need something more realistic than that."

"Well, if you're clueless, I'm hopeless." She bit her lip hard, thinking. "What do ordinary people do when they're engaged?"

"I don't know. What do your sister and what's-his-name do?"

"Kristoff," she said sharply. "His name is Kristoff."

"Excuse me," he said sarcastically. "What do your sister and _Kristoff_ do?"

"I don't know- they spend time together, I guess. Walk around the town, eat lunch together, throw snow at each other…"

His face brightened. "Well, that isn't a bad idea."

"Having a snowball fight?" she said dubiously. "I think it'd be a little one-sided."

"Not that; walking the town. I was intending on doing so anyway."

"Do you think that'd work?" she said, frowning.

"It's worth a shot."

She debated this, and then sighed. "I was really enjoying this book."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you enjoy being alive even better." He stood up and offered his hand. Elsa regarded him with annoyance for a moment, and then placed her hand in his.

* * *

The day was cold but the wind was still, so the town was full of life and laughter. Children ran in the streets, pelting each other with snowballs. Elsa smiled as she saw them, stifling a laugh by pressing a hand to her mouth.

"Hey, look! It's Queen Elsa!" one of them said excitedly, running over. The children crowded around eagerly, and she greeted them with a smile.

"I have a surprise for you," she said happily. With a wave of her fingers, an ice-skating rink appeared in the center of the square, and the children gasped with delight. Another wave caused crystal-clear ice skates to appear on their feet, causing a few "Oh-ohs!" as the children wobbled. One of them toppled over, and the queen "caught" him with a little pile of snow before he could fall on the hard ice.

The children thanked her profusely and quickly began to skate around, laughing and giggling. Elsa heard a chuckle from beside her and glanced over, and her smile faded as she remembered that she was not walking the town alone. Her companion noticed her sudden change in expression, and his own quickly fell. The pair quickly deteriorated into silence as they started to walk again.

Hans was taking the lead, even though he didn't really know the town. He and the queen had hardly spoken a word since they'd left the castle. It was one thing to do business; it was quite another to make small talk to the woman he'd once tried to behead. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and looking anywhere but at her, he took a right, and she followed wordlessly.

As they rounded the corner into the main square of the town, the sound of music met their ears. A children's choir, standing on a makeshift stage some ways away, was dutifully singing what seemed to be some sort of carol to the conduction of a gray-haired, sharp-nosed man.

"_Can't you hear the angels singing,_

_Bringing glad tidings of old?_

_Ding-dong! Ding-dong!_

_Chapel bells are ringing_

_For the good news we have been told._

_Night is gone and day is coming,_

_No need to feel afraid or sad._

_God our Father_

_We thank you for your kindness._

_Rejoice! For all the world is glad."_

They continued on like this in a round for a time, until they finished. "Good. And, exeunt group," the director said snootily. "Narrators come downstage. With confidence!"

"We celebrate Christmas, as we do each year, and greet the babe like the angels did there," a nervous little young boy recited, and then sighed with relief when he realized he hadn't messed up.

"Who were these angels? What did they say?" A little girl chanted. "Well, that is the subject of our little play!"

"Where are my angels? I need my angels!"

"They're pretty good," Hans commented. He nodded down the street. "Shall we move on?"

"No, no," Elsa said, waving a hand at him impatiently, fixated on the children's performance. "Let's stay."

He frowned a little, confused, and then conceded with a shrug. They watched the children continue on through their make-shift nativity scene. After a few minutes, Hans cleared his throat. "I hate to rush you…"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," she apologized, finally pulling her gaze away. "I just wanted to watch a little. We can go."

As they continued to walk down, Hans commented, "I've never seen anyone so interested in a schoolchildren's pageant."

"I apologize for making you stop. I've just never seen one before," she explained.

"You've never seen a Christmas pageant?" he said, surprised.

"I've never seen a play.

He stopped and stared. Elsa glanced over, startled. "What?"

"You mean to tell me that you've read _Julius Caesar, Macbeth,_ all the greats- and you've never seen a _single play?"_

"I was busy!" she said defensively, crossing her arms.

"With what?"

"Studies. Lessons. I had things to do," she said shortly.

"So much to do that you never even had time to take the day off and see a play?"

"There's an awful lot to learn when you're going to take the throne!" she snapped, and then added spitefully, "Not that _you'd _know anything about that."

Hans fell silent. Uncomfortably, they began walking again. After a moment, Elsa sighed. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "That… that was low."

"A bit. But I can see I hit a nerve," he replied, carefully avoiding the unspoken questions of how or why.

After another slight pause, Elsa admitted, "…I wasn't… as busy as all that. I just… I rarely left the palace when I was younger."

"Why?"

She waved her hand, and a curl of snowflakes burst into the air in front of her. Hans nodded in understanding. "Ah. You had secrets to keep."

"I did. And it was easier to keep them inside the palace walls, where there were less surprises and interactions."

"And now?"

She shrugged. "And now, I don't have to hide." She stopped walking suddenly, her face changing as she sniffed the air. "Is that…?"

He noticed the scent, too. "…Chocolate."

"Ohh!" She suddenly noticed a store window a few ways down with little fudges and truffles in the display, and hurried over to it. "Oh my, they all look so good!"

"You like chocolate?" he said, surprised.

"Like it? I love it. And why do you look so shocked?"

"I was expecting you to like- I don't know, tea and crumpets, or something."

"Tea and crumpets?" she said, baffled. "I'm not British, Hans. Anyways, I adore chocolate."

"Are you getting any?"

"Aren't you?"

Hans smiled sardonically. "I don't think he'd sell to me."

Elsa glanced at him, and then away again, biting her lip. After a moment, she said, "What do you want?"

"What?"

"What kind of chocolate do you want?"

He suddenly realized what she was asking. "That wasn't an invitation for your pity," he said curtly.

"Oh, would you give it a rest?" she said, sighing in annoyance. "I'm getting you a piece of chocolate whether you like it or not, so you may as well tell me what you want."

Her expression was so obstinate that he finally relented. "…The dark chocolate truffle."

"You're in luck. That's what I was going to get." She disappeared inside the shop. Hans waited a minute or two until she came back out again, carrying a small bag. They sat down on a nearby bench, and she handed him one of the truffles.

"Sharing chocolate," he commented, accepting it. "My brother would be ecstatic."

Elsa faux-grimaced. "What a terrifying image." She popped her truffle in her mouth, and he did the same.

"Mmm…" Both said, at exactly the same time, and then looked at each other, surprised, and couldn't help but chuckle.

* * *

**A/N: So again, this chapter was one of the longer chapters that I decided to split up; hopefully part 2 will be up soon. Thanks so much for reading and please review! : )**


	12. Chapter 10: A Day in Town, Part 2

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

The day had passed much quicker than expected from thereon, until the sun was setting over the western sea and most of the villagers were going home for the evening. Though it was long past whatever obligation they'd set out to fulfill, Hans and Elsa were still walking around the town, talking. "-You know, I'll be honest," Elsa commented, as they approached the docks. "I thought this day was going to be terrible, but we've been out here, what, four hours now?"

"Five, I think."

"And I haven't frozen your feet to the ground yet. I think that counts as an accomplishment."

"This just goes to prove that we _can _tolerate each other, once we agree to be civil," Hans pointed out.

They'd arrived at the docks, and Elsa suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! That reminds me; there was something I wanted to show you." She hurried off at a slightly quicker pace, and Hans followed. In a little section at the end of the docks was a small ship, older but still seaworthy, before which Elsa stopped. "This is it."

"The ship?"

"She's yours," Elsa explained. "This is the one you'll leave in."

"Really?" Hans said, surprised. He hadn't been expecting anything quite so nice. The ship was small and more of a sailing ship than a trading one, able to be manned by one crewmember if necessary, but she looked fast and sturdy. "Can we go aboard?"

"I think so. I own it, after all." Whirling her hand, she caused a snowy wind to come over the waters, creating a gentle wave that pushed the boat in closer to the docks. Hans managed to jump on and lowered the gangplank down for her, helping pull her aboard.

As soon as Elsa set foot on the boat, she felt nervous. She knew it was ridiculous; after all, it was just a ship, she was safe in the harbor with the dock just a few feet away, and the evening sky was clear and pinpricked with the first few glittering stars. Even so, she felt as if any moment a storm would come up over the ocean and sweep them out to sea, rolling the boat under the waves, snapping the mast like a toothpick-

"Queen Elsa!"

She started slightly. "What?"

"I asked if you were alright," Hans said, frowning. "I said your name at least three times."

"Oh. No, I'm fine, thank you."

Hans nodded, although he still looked doubtful. Walking a few paces away, he experimentally spun the wheel slightly. "She's a beautiful old ship," he commented. "Well-used, but beautiful. If this wood could talk…" He trailed off reminiscently, and then returned to the present. "Do you sail at all?"

"Hm? Oh, no, um, I don't really enjoy sailing," she said uncomfortably.

"How could anyone not enjoy sailing?"

Elsa noticed she was wringing her hands, a nervous habit she'd never quite been able to get rid of, and she quickly put them down at her side. "I… I'm not a big fan of… boats."

He looked as if he were about to ask why, before it dawned on him. "Of course. Your parents… they were lost at sea, weren't they?"

Elsa gave a brief nod, looking away. "Yes. Four years ago now."

"I'm sorry," he said, and sounded genuinely apologetic. "I'd forgotten."

"It's alright." She watched as walked to the back and pulled off his white gloves, setting them down on a nearby barrel. It was the first time she'd seen his hands without them. The palms were rough and chapped, and the nails dirty and worn down. "Your hands," she said, shocked.

He glanced down at them in surprise, and then agreed, "I know. You can hide a lot of things about prison life: bruises heal and scars fade, but once the dirt's gotten under your nails, it stays there." He climbed up the rigging, testing it. "Thankfully, it's 'improper' for a prince not to wear gloves. Fine for a sailor, though."

"Why do you love sailing so much?" she questioned.

He shrugged, untangling some of the rigging. "Couldn't say. It's just something I've always liked to do. A hobby, I guess?" He climbed back down. "Anyway, I liked it more and more the older I got. Always made me feel… more in control of myself. I served two years in the Navy; did you know that?"

"No, I didn't," she said, slightly impressed despite herself.

"It was the best feeling ever, I swear. And when you get out on a clear night, with the stars out overhead and a warm breeze rocking the boat… it's the most beautiful thing in the whole world." His eyes seemed distant. "I never wanted to come back."

He sounded so melancholy that Elsa hesitated to say what she did next. "You know, I don't understand you."

"What do you mean?" he said, glancing over.

"First you try to kill me and take the throne, then you come back offering your help, then you act snarky as all get-out, and then you're perfectly charming all day long," Elsa explained. "It's as if you're any number of people all at once."

"Your point being?" he said, walking over beside her.

"For a man I'm supposed to be marrying, I don't know a whole lot about you." To anyone else, this would have sounded entirely ordinary, but Hans recognized the irony in her tone. "Who are you really, Prince Hans?"

He stared down at the icy waters, leaning with his elbows on the rail beside hers, hands clasped. "I don't know," he said finally, quietly. "My whole life, I've adapted to whatever situation I found myself in- playing a part, if you will. I've spent so long being whatever anyone wanted me to be, I guess I never… really took the time to find out."

There was a moment's pause, and then Elsa said, "Well, why don't we take that time right now?"

"What?" he said, looking up in surprise.

"Let's find out who Prince Hans is," she said in a business-like manner. "We'll start small. Favorite food?"

He laughed. "You can't be serious."

"I am _very_ serious," she said, in quite a serious tone indeed, but it was contradicted by her smile. "Well? What is your favorite food?"

"Chocolate."

She gave him a look. "Chocolate isn't food."

"You eat it; hence, by its very nature, chocolate must be a food."

She huffed. "Fine. Your favorite _non-chocolate _food."

He shrugged. "Ham and cheese sandwiches."

Her mouth dropped open, and she burst out laughing. "Really?"

"Really," he answered, amused by her mirth. "You seem rather surprised."

"A little. It seems that's the one thing Anna got right about you."

Mentioning Anna seemed to subdue the new happy mood, so Elsa quickly added, "Alright, are you right-handed or left-handed?"

"Left, but I was trained with my right for swordsmanship. And yourself?"

"Left as well. Do you have a favorite book?"

"Hmm… Plato's _Republic."_

"Plato?" she said, surprised. "I didn't have you pegged as a philosopher."

"I'm not, really. Philosophy wasn't high on my father's priority list for my education. But I came across the book in the palace library and thought it was a fair representation of what a kingdom should be like. His framework was incomplete, of course, but impressive nonetheless." He rolled his eyes. "Agnar was less than enthusiastic when I tried to give him the book. He took it as a personal insult."

"I can imagine," she said dryly.

"You know, your Majesty," he commented, "I know very little about you, as well. Do you have a favorite book?"

She chuckled. "Ironically… my favorite book is Aristotle's _Politics."_

He laughed outright. "You mean that not a even minute after I told you I favored the _Republic,_ you claim to like Aristotle's _Politics?"_ She nodded, eyes twinkling. "Well then! We are quite a pair, aren't we, Queen Elsa?"

"That we are," she agreed.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then Hans cleared his throat. "Alright, is it my turn to ask you something?"

"That depends," Elsa answered. "How personal is it?"

"It's about your, well…"

"Powers?" she finished.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"That's alright. You're wondering where they come from, aren't you?"

"Well, it's a reasonable question."

Elsa shrugged. "To be honest, I'm as clueless as you and everyone else. Mama and Papa always said I was born with them."

"Children aren't randomly born with powers over ice and snow," Hans pointed out.

"I'm well aware, but my answers are basically non-existent," she said truthfully. "I have no idea why I have this magic touch and Anna doesn't. I just… do. And since the rest of the world found out, I've been trying to use them responsibly, and prove that there's more to me than my magic." She smiled slightly. "I'd rather be remembered for _who_ I am than _what_ I am."

"Well, I'm… impressed you have such a firm grasp on your identity," Hans commented.

"Hm. Well, thank you. And you?"

"Pardon?"

"What identifies you?" she reiterated.

Hans considered this for a moment, and then said, "You do." At her surprised expression, he amended, "Or rather, what I tried to do to you."

For a moment, neither could speak. The happy mood was gone, and Elsa looked away. Why was she looking away, Hans wondered? She hadn't done anything wrong.

He was the villain here, not her.

In the end, he was the one who broke the silence. That's why I have to go," he said as he walked away, trying to keep his tone light despite the dark subject. He put his hands on the wheel. "My brothers don't want me back home, you naturally don't want me anywhere near here… I really don't have a place in this world." His voice betrayed nothing, he even managed to smile lightly… but his eyes were masked, like a blank wall. "So I'll have to carve one out for myself, I suppose." Though he didn't say it, the meaning echoed in Elsa's mind as clearly as if he'd said it aloud: _I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere._

"Aren't you worried one of your brothers might come after you?" she questioned.

He shrugged, walking towards the back of the deck. "I never had much use back home, anyway. I was sort of like- well, like this rope," he said, indicating the coil of rope hanging on a hook beside the door. "It's here in case the rigging ropes snap and need to be replaced. It's a spare." He stopped suddenly, and Elsa tilted her head, confused. Hans seemed lost in thought. "Do you know what it's like," he asked quietly, more to the sky and the sea than to her, "to be nothing but the spare…?

"**You're not part of the people, not born to be king-**

**Just someone who's uselessly in-between.**

**They're great generals, scholars, poets.**

**I'm the screw up…"**

He glanced over at her and gave a wry smile.

"**Don't I know it.**

**But then who could ever compare?**

**My whole life, I've known I'll never be the heir.**

**When you're the spare…**

**You're the absolute, final last-resort.**

**In case everything else goes wrong.**

**And they'd make a treaty by marrying you off,**

**To help "foreign relations" get along." **He rolled his eyes.

"**For twenty years, you train in poise and grace,**

**But what does it matter if you have no place?**

**But hey, that's only fair.**

**That's life, when you're just the spare."**

"Oh, you poor baby," Elsa said, even chuckling now that the mood seemed lighter. "Heaven knows why you ever _wanted_ to be the heir."

"Oh? And why's that?" he inquired, smiling a little despite himself.

"It's not exactly as much fun as it looks, you know," she informed him.

"_From the moment you're born, growing up,_

_You know someday you'll take the crown._

_Everyone expects so much of you;_

_Wisdom and wit and far renown._

_They all expect the "perfect one,"_

_And there's very rarely time for fun._

_You learn and wait and train and prepare._

_But well, that's life when you are the heir."_

"Well, if it's really not all it's cracked up to be, I'm glad I'm choosing an easier career," he said ironically. "Besides, can you imagine what Arendelle would be like, with me as its king?" He shook his head. "Believe me, I've learned my lesson.

**Someday when I'm gone,**

**Far away who I've been,**

**Where no one knows my face or name,**

**I'll make a new life then,"**he promised.

"**I could forge a different path,**

**Make a brand new start.**

**I could mean something to someone;**

**How I'd love to play that part.**

**So I'm just the last-born brother**

**Who everyone wishes they could ignore.**

**I'm the villain; and let's face it:**

**And there's nothing I deserve better than your scorn.**

**Maybe I don't deserve to be free,**

**And maybe there's truly no place for me.**

**But I at least want a chance to belong somewhere.**

**So even if I'm not the heir- well.**

**I'm more than just-"**

"Elsa!" a voice called, suddenly breaking their conversation. Both turned, startled. Anna was waving to her sister from a ways away, at the end of the docks.

"Oh my goodness; I didn't even realize how late it's gotten!" Elsa exclaimed, checking the bell-tower. "I promised I'd have dinner with her and Kristoff."

"My apologies; I didn't mean to keep you," Hans answered.

"Oh, no; I'm just as much to blame." She hurried over to the gangplank and called, "I'm coming, Anna!" When she reached the dock, she turned back. "Good evening, Prince Hans." She gave a small curtsy, and he inclined his head with a smile, before she hurried to meet her sister.

Hans watched as the two began to talk happily. They were soon joined by the suitor- Kristoff- and what appeared to be a reindeer, before they headed up the path towards the castle gates. His smile faded.

**"Why did I even care?"** he asked himself softly. **"Just had to go and prove I'm not the spare…"**

And, not able to stand watching anymore, he turned away.

* * *

**A/N: Whew! Lots of dialogue in this chapter. What did you think?**

**I hope you all enjoyed it! As a heads-up, I probably won't be able to post as often from now on- school term just began for me so I'm going to be rather busy.**

**All my love and prayers!**

**-FFcrazy15**


	13. Chapter 11: A Matter of Doubt

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: Long chapter; hope you all enjoy it!**

* * *

"Well done, your Majesty," the Snow Queen said, usually inscrutable expression tinged with just the slightest hint of cold approval. She took the icy shard in hand and curled her fingers around it possessively. "Two more must be found, and then the other three collected from you, your brother and the Queen."

"That is the trouble," Agnar said. The two were standing in the woods not far from Arendelle. "I am having trouble finding them. The shard has not burned again."

"That is not my problem," she said dismissively.

"If you want them found then it is your problem," he said sharply.

The Snow Queen turned an icy eye to him, and then said, "The shards become more potent in the presence of anger and hatred. Surely a murderer and his would-be victim exude both?"

"Apparently not enough."

"Hm…" She seemed to be pondering this. "Surprising. But not a major setback." She nodded towards the castle. "If the Queen and your brother will not cause the necessary antagonism on their own, you must do it for them. Create tension in the castle, in those close to them. The princess and her suitor, the servants. Whoever may be of use. And push their relationship further; even if they are behaving civilly now, they will resent being forced and eventually will turn to hatred." Her eyes grew colder still. "Remember: the remaining shards must be gathered before the dawn of that accursed day."

"They will be collected before then," Agnar vowed. "I swear to you, the sun will not shine on Arendelle come Christmas morning."

The Snow Queen's face seemed to tighten at that, but she merely nodded. "You know your duty. Now go." With a swirl of winter winds, she vanished.

Agnar set out again for the small capital city, walking through the snowy woods. As he overlooked a bluff down into the harbor, he recognized a large majority of the ships by the flags they bore. Nearly all the friendly countries had arrived for the wedding. There were even a few late trade ships, safely docked in the harbor.

His expression darkened. That was dangerous. The disaster would not be as effective if the town could withstand it so easily. This would have to be fixed.

When he reached the edges of town, he was met by a number of his brothers- five, to be exact: Erling, Frederick, Helge, Ivar, and Jens. "Ah, just the men I was looking for," he said, satisfied.

"You spoke to her?" Erling, the eldest of the group, questioned.

"I did."

"What did she say?" Helge demanded.

Agnar shot him a cold glare, and the younger retreated slightly. "That is my concern, not yours. But I do have a job for you." He nodded to the harbor. "Take the ships on which you arrived and sail south. No trade ships are to enter Arendellian waters, am I understood?"

"You mean we won't be here for the wedding?" Ivar said, frowning.

Agnar fought the urge to smack his brother. "How many times have I told you, there will be _no wedding?_ Brother dearest will have surely burned the castle to the ground by then, and then the real fun starts."

"Question," Jens said, raising a hand slightly. "Wouldn't it just be _easier_ to tell Hans he's a human tinderbox, instead of waiting for him to find out?"

"If we _told_ him, he would run to the Queen for help, instead of forcing her to try to _kill_ him," Agnar said, with the air of a schoolmaster trying to instruct a particularly daft child.

"But-" his brother started, still looking confused.

"I don't have time to explain everything to you; just do as you're told. Set sail tonight, after dark."

They all recognized a direct order when they heard one, and they bowed and left. Agnar rubbed his temples. Dealing with fools like his brothers was such a headache.

He walked off towards the palace. It was time to see whom exactly he could exploit.

* * *

Kristoff swore, if he had to listen to _one more word_ about whose daughter was marrying whose son and how it affected each family's fortune, he would literally walk out.

The council meeting had already gone on for two hours and had developed into a debate between two different families regarding dowries and land and political status. He looked around the room. Most of the other councilmembers were trying to occupy themselves in some way or another: doodling, counting ceiling tiles, cleaning their fingernails, etc. Anna was pulling at a loose thread on her dress. Even Hans, who was present due to his (alleged) approaching coronation, seemed bored out of his skull. Only Elsa was trying to follow the argument, with a look of weary resignation.

"-The manor should rightfully fall in as her property; her grandfather left it to her in his will!"

"The manor belongs to her eldest brother and his children!"

"Can I ask something?" Kristoff asked tiredly, and the two nobles turned to look at him, surprised. "Why does it matter?"

The whole room had gone silent, and Kristoff suddenly realized he'd said something wrong. "It matters, Sir Bjorgman," said one of the nobles testily, "Because with the manor goes a title which rightfully belongs to my first son's heirs."

"No, it belongs to _your daughter's_ heirs, and therefore mine!"

"The law is clear on this matter," Elsa said exhaustedly. "The manor was left to the girl in the will; hence, her heirs will inherit the title and the land. Lord Frandsen is correct."

"But your Majesty-"

"The law is the law, Lord Ersland, and said law cannot be changed or have a situation excepted from it without a vote from this council."

The man appeared spitting mad. "Then I call for a vote of exception!"

Several of the council heads groaned audibly, but Elsa held up a hand. "Alright, a vote it is. All in favor of making the exception?"

Lord Ersland raised a hand. So did two other nobles, but the large majority kept their hands down. Elsa nodded. "And all opposed?"

Everyone else, including her, indicated their agreement. Elsa nodded. "Alright, then it's settled: there will be no exception. We'll reconvene tomorrow to settle the grain dispute in the southern province, so just leave your paperwork here. Meeting adjourned."

The councilmembers slowly stood and filed out of the room, Elsa and Anna at the head. Kristoff could see Lord Ersland glaring at him; no doubt he believed that with more time he could have persuaded more people to his side of the case. As the man passed him, he jostled the harvester accidentally-on-purpose, knocking Kristoff into the chair.

_"Lapp,"_ the man hissed under his breath.

Hans, who was following behind, noted the way Kristoff tensed, but the mountain man said nothing and merely paused, waiting for the rest of the room to be empty. Once the rest were out of hearing range, Kristoff muttered, "I'd like to hit that guy in the face."

"I don't blame you." Despite being a native of the Southern Isles, Hans in his studies had come across the deep rift that separated ordinary Arendellians and other northern Scandinavians from the Sami people, for the former often considered the latter inferior. While Elsa and Anna clearly had no such prejudice, he could understand why, if Kristoff really did carry Lapland blood, it would be a scandal among the courts. "Is it…?"

"My mother was half-Sami. So, yeah, it's true." He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "I could usually pass myself off as full-blooded Arendellian for business and stuff, but once I proposed to Anna, the council started asking a lot of questions, and… I mean, it was already bad _enough_ she was marrying a commoner, let alone a Laplander."

"Is the princess aware?"  
"Yeah; kinda hard not to be- I mean, I own a reindeer, after all. I don't think she knows what they're saying about us, though." His eyes were angry. "I just… I hate the fact that they treat it like she's degrading herself or something by marrying me." He fell into a brooding silence for a few moments, before he said, "But they couldn't find any law against it, and Elsa approves of the marriage, so the council can't really stop us."

"You should tell the princess," Hans advised. "If she knew how they were treating you-"

"Anna doesn't know and she's not going to know," he said forcefully, pointing a finger at him. "And you'd better not breathe a word of this to her! Got it?"

"…Of course. Not a word," Hans said, eyes going cross-eyed as he tried to keep Kristoff's finger in focus.

Kristoff glared at him, and then sighed, lowering his hand. "It's just… she's got enough to deal with on her own. She doesn't need my problems, too."

"You… really care about her, don't you?" Hans asked carefully.

"Yeah," Kristoff agreed, voice surprisingly a little wistful. "Yeah, I'd do anything for her."

"The princess is a very fortunate woman," Hans replied, voice emotionless.

Kristoff opened his mouth to reply, and then looked over at him. Something passed behind those dark brown eyes, and the mountain man's face went stony as whatever bridge they had just built was burnt to cinders again. "Yeah," he said again, this time with a different tone, much darker and even a little threatening. "And you'd better remember it." Without another word, he walked out of the room and down the hall.

Hans watched him go, and then sighed and walked out as well, going down the opposite side of the hall. The door closed behind him.

On the opposite side of the room, the back doors opened, and a man with dark brown hair and a crown entered the room. King Agnar raised an eyebrow. "Well, well," he said, scanning the empty room. "Who knew the oaf was a Lapp?" He caught sight of the papers on the table. "Or that the Queen was such a fool as to leave important documents in an empty room?" He turned to the cold fireplace and, upon finding the tinderbox, reached for the latch. Then, he had another idea. Removing the little box from the inside of his waistcoat, he very carefully took out the shard. It glowed and shimmered like a hot coal.

He set the shard down on top of the nearest folder. The paper turned brown, and then began to curl. At last, a flame bloomed along the paper, hungrily eating away at the material. Smiling to himself, the king picked up the shard (which was somehow only warm to the touch) and enclosed it in the box once more. Then, he walked back out, tucking the box back inside his pocket.

* * *

_Snuffle-uffle-uff._

"C'mon, buddy, cut it out."

_Snuffle-uff._

Kristoff pushed Sven's head away from his pocket. "I told you, I don't have any carrots." He brushed the reindeer's fur with an irritated sort of manner, harder than he usually would have, and Sven gave him a snort and an annoyed look.

The mountain man sighed. "Sorry. I guess I'm just in a bad mood." _"Why? What happened?"_ he said, adopting the tone he usually took for Sven's voice, and then went back to himself and sighed. "Long story. Political stuff. Heck, I don't even understand half of it."

The reindeer gave a low, muffled noise of disbelief and nudged his master slightly with his antlers. Kristoff substituted in his own words. _"That's not all, is it?"_ "Look, buddy, it's nothing. It's fine."

"He's a very verbose animal, isn't he?"

Kristoff jumped about a foot and whirled around. Standing in the doorway of the stables was the Southern king. He went back to brushing Sven, not looking at the man, because he was worried he might betray something of the little scheme he was in on. "Uh, yeah. I mean, no, obviously, but, uh… I sort of know what he would say if he could, y'know?"

"Well, I suppose I'll have to take your word for it." Agnar walked into the stables, eyeing the reindeer. Sven eyed him right back, and Kristoff fought to keep from grinning. "I take it the council meeting didn't go well?"

"Uh- no, I mean, it was fine," Kristoff said quickly, trying not to let his distaste for the man creep into his voice. The king couldn't know that _he_ knew the man was as big of a jerk as his younger brother- if not more so. _Although I didn't think that possible until now. _"I mean, it's just, you know, normal council-y stuff." He winced, knowing how much he sounded like a total doofus.

"Oh, I do. Believe me, I do," the king said, chuckling. "The important thing with councils is knowing how to handle them. Take a firm hand, that's the trick."

"Uh… yeah, I guess." _What?_

"Although I'm sure this wasn't an average session," Agnar commented. "Surely things normally run much smoother?"

"Oh, uh- I don't really know, to be honest. I haven't sat through too many of them. Usually Elsa handles my part of it, but now that Anna and I are gettin' married and all…"

"Ah, I see. Well, there isn't much to it, once you know what you're doing. I've found so long as you have all your paperwork done and you know the ins and outs of all your members, the job is really quite a simple task."

Kristoff had stopped brushing Sven, his brows furrowed in concentration. _Paperwork… I barely get through my paperwork as it is. And I bet it'll increase after the wedding._

"And, of course, you have to make sure your council will listen to you," Agnar continued. "There's nothing worse than a council who cannot function because their leader has no hold on the reigns." He looked over suddenly, as if worried he'd offended the mountain man. "Not that you have any problems with that, I'm sure."

_Oh, jeez, you've got no idea._ "Well, uh, I'm sure they'll be more, you know, open to listening, when I'm… I mean, not that they'd _have_ to listen to me, just 'cause I'll be a prince, but, um…"

"Naturally, naturally," Agnar agreed, as if trying to affirm the idea that everything would turn out fine. But now, Kristoff wasn't so sure. Heck, the council didn't listen to him on the smallest matter _now; _if they openly made fun of the guy who was going to be their monarch within the month, how could he expect them to ever listen to him as a prince?

"But that's all people skills, nothing too obscure," Agnar added.

"Oh, yeah," Kristoff agreed, with some relief. People skills were one thing he understood. Sure, he was a loner, but he'd spent a good fifteen years or so basically running his own ice business; he wasn't lacking in persuasive abilities.

"I remember my years of diplomacy training," the king said, eyes acquiring a distant quality. "Father taught me at his right hand. He said it would be necessary for a future sovereign. Well, he was right, of course; I don't know where I'd be without his instruction. No doubt I would have run the kingdom into the ground," he said with a dry and somehow flat chuckle.

_Diplomacy training?_ Kristoff hadn't the slightest idea of what such training would include. Did they teach you something special in that, about how to work with nobles and the like? He'd pretty much learned his communication skills through trial-and-error, but who knew if that same sort of stuff worked on higher-ups?

"Well, I'm afraid I must be going," Agnar said suddenly. "Good day, Sir Bjorgman."

"Oh- uh, yeah, see you later." The king raised an eyebrow at the unorthodox phrase, but gave a brief nod and then left.

Kristoff stood there, the frown still plastered on his face. _'No doubt I would have run the kingdom into the ground,'_ he heard the king say in his mind. Was that what he was destined to do? After all, if all that training was so important, then what would a prince who didn't know _any_ of it do to a country? Were Anna and Elsa taught this stuff? Well duh, of course they were- they'd been brought up princesses. Were there any books in the library he could read? Would he even understand them?

Sven nudged him with his head, looking up at his master with worry. Kristoff shook his head slightly, trying to banish the worries. "I'm fine, buddy; don't worry about it."

Sven seemed to frown as well, as if still uncertain, but let Kristoff alone. And yet, even as the mountain man resumed his brushing, the worries refused to leave, swirling around and around in his head like winter snow.

* * *

"-White or red, m'lady?"

"Oh, I-I don't know… which do you think will work better?"

Gerda smiled at Anna, who was squinting almost cross-eyed at the two different tablecloth samples in front of her. "Princess Anna, it's _your_ wedding. Well, you and your sister's, and she's given you full control. The choice is up to you."

Anna grinned. "I know, I just…" She sighed. "I want everything to be perfect."

"Well, with your taste, we needn't worry about that a jot," the older housekeeper said with a well-meaning cluck of her tongue. "White is more traditional, but red is your accent color."

"Gerda, ma'am!" a younger maid said, tapping her knuckles on the door.

The older woman turned. "Yes, Martha?"

"The kitchen staff needs you, right away, ma'am. Something to do with the pantry?"

Gerda sighed. "You'd think after over a decade of me running this whole place almost alone, they'd be able to figure out a simple thing like the pantry." She smiled at Anna. "I'll be back shortly, m'lady."

"Oh, okay," Anna said with a smile. "Take your time."

Gerda followed the maid out of the room, and Anna went back to staring at the tablecloths. Which one did Gerda say was more traditional? White, probably. Which one would Kristoff want? Would he even care about tablecloths? She should ask him. What if-?

At the sound of a cough, she turned, startled. "Oh! King Agnar." A thousand red flags flared up in her mind, but she kept her face and tone cheery. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you; and yourself?"

"Oh, I'm great," she said, smiling. "Everything's going so fast, though; I can't believe it's only…" She counted in her head. "Twenty-two days away, including today."

"You must be very happy," Agnar asserted.

"Oh, I am," Anna said, grinning from ear to ear as she folded up the linens. "I can't believe it's going to happen!"

"Yes, and so soon, too," he agreed. "Royal weddings are always such important affairs. In my own country we haven't had a court wedding for… oh, I would say several years now." As Anna continued to look over the tablecloths, he said, "It's interesting, I think, how marriage changes people."

"What do you mean?" she said, glancing back in surprise.

"Oh, just how some women react very strangely, going from being eligible to a matron. Why, I've known more than a few who seemed to switch personalities altogether. It's murder on their husbands, of course; that sweet girl they thought they married suddenly becomes a veritable shrew." With every word he spoke, Anna's smile was fading, being replaced by a stunned, worried look. "And then there's the children to think about. Some of the ladies I thought would make the kindest of mothers end up absolute tyrants to their children." He stopped suddenly, as if noticing Anna's silence. "Oh, I didn't mean that would happen to _you, _Princess."

"Oh," she said, with obvious relief. She turned, smiling a little sheepishly. "Sorry. Guess I was just reading into that too much."

"You'll forgive me; I suppose I didn't think before I spoke. After all, you and Sir Kristoff seem to be a very happy pair. I'm sure you've never really had too grand of an argument."

"No, no, we, uh, we've had a few doozies," she laughed nervously, going back to the swatches. "Yelling, screaming, the whole deal."

"Oh," he said, tone uncomfortable. "Well, then I'm certain you've never been so angry that you couldn't speak to each other. Communication is said to be very important in a marriage."

At least half a dozen times where she'd stormed off to her room to fume alone flashed through Anna's mind. "Well- I mean, you know, occasionally."

"But surely you've never disagreed about parenting?"

"…I guess we haven't really talked about it," she admitted.

"Ah. Well," he said, as the clock chimed one outside her room, "I'd best be going. Pleasant talking to you, Princess."

"Oh, um, yeah… you too…" she trailed off, not turning around as she heard the door close. She looked down at the tablecloths in her hands.

Was she… really ready for this? After all, she had a habit of rushing into things- _especially marriage,_ she thought ruefully.

_But this is different,_ her mind quickly dismissed. _That was Hans, this is Kristoff; they're two entirely different people. I mean, you and Kristoff are meant to be-_

_ "-You and I are just meant to be!"_ she heard her own voice echo happily in harmony with Hans's.

She sat down in a nearby chair, feeling slightly sick. What if she _was_ rushing into this? Had she put enough thought into what it meant to get married, to start a family? Sure, she'd obviously _thought_ about having kids, and she'd loved the idea to death- but what if that was just a false sense of confidence? What if she ended up being a terrible mother, a terrible wife? What if she and Kristoff-

"Now stop that right there," she told herself aloud firmly. "The king is the _bad_ guy here; you can't go around listening to what he says!"

But… what if the king was _right?_ I mean, it wasn't logical to think that just because someone was a liar that everything they _said_ was wrong. After all, sometimes liars told the truth, right? Even if only on accident. Hans was a perfect example; he took the _cake_ in being a liar, but now they were trusting him with their lives, weren't they? But how could you tell what was true and what wasn't?

Anna let out a little moan of frustration and buried her head in her hands, trying to think. For a moment she struggled with the complexities of the problem, and then sighed, sitting up again. What was she doing? She was overthinking this. She just had to take this one day at a time, right? And right now, she had to decide on a tablecloth color.

She stood up and looked between the white and the red, biting her lip. Eventually, she folded the red, put it back in the box, and nodded firmly at the white. That was the color she wanted; at least she was sure of that.

_But what about the rest of it?_ that little voice said in the back of her mind.

Anna brushed aside the little voice. She didn't need to think about that right now, did she? No. Of course not. So the little voice could just _stay where it was and shut up._

But, of course, it didn't.

* * *

**A/N: Regarding Kristoff's Sami heritage: while Disney has not officially said that Kristoff is Sami, the stave church museum in Norway Land in Disneyworld does in fact state that his character's clothing, animal, etc. were all based off of the Sami Laplander tribes. His being discriminated against due to his mother's bloodline would actually have been historically accurate; many northern Scandinavians at that point in time considered the Sami people to be very strange and even inferior. The idea of a person of Lapland descent being involved in the royal courts would've been scandalous. Because I believe in historical accuracy when writing about a certain time period, I have brought it up here, but will attempt to treat the matter with the sensitivity it deserves.**

**I myself am of both Norwegian/Swedish and Sami descent, although my family did not know until the past few decades or so because an ancestor many generations back pretended to be of Spanish-Jewish descent to explain her dark features, rather than admit her Laplander heritage. I am proud of both sides of my ancestral history and hope that understanding and acceptance will continue to grow between the Lapland and northern Scandinavian cultures.**


	14. Chapter 12: Deilig Er Jorden

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: Decided to post this chapter two days early because I just love it so. : ) The fourth scene in this has honestly been one of my favorite ones to right. Hope you like it!**

* * *

The Snow Queen's sleigh raced over the frozen ground with a speed unknown to the mortals in the southlands far below. The northern lights danced above her, green and rose, and some part of her hated them and loved them at the same time. Green and rose… springtime and life.

_"Julia!"_

She shook her head slightly, frowning deeply. Once she had been able to stand the lights, even used them to illuminate her palace, but now they only brought back memories of too many things about which there was no use thinking. She turned her eyes from the wavering bands of light and continued her fast-paced trek across the ice caps. Into her view came a towering fortress. It glimmered icily in the glowing light, and the Snow Queen smiled with a smile as cold as her palace. Her castle of ice was a city unto itself, a lifeless world all her own. On the top of the earth, nearer the Northern Pole than any other settlement known to man, it was too cold for anyone to survive for long, save for herself and her icy creations. Here, everything was under her control. She ruled her silent citadel with an iron fist.

The great ice giants turned to greet her as the sleigh pulled up to the doors. "At ease," she said curtly as she stepped out, and they returned to their former positions. The ice giants, huge translucent sentinels of her own creation, were nuisances but necessary ones. After that pathetic little girl had defeated her snow guards some fifty years previous, she had quickly set to work at making larger, more efficient guards to protect the castle.

She pushed open the doors and quickly made her way through her labyrinthine palace to her throne room. Her ice-clad heels clicked as she paced across the frozen floor before her throne, thinking. "What to do, what to do," she said to herself. "That fool will never accomplish it on his own. Why is it that I always have to do _everything_ for these people?"

She stopped in front of the window on the opposite side of the room, looking out over her icy realm. Slowly, a smirk spread across her lips.

"Of course; how silly of me." She strode out onto the balcony beyond the window and began to chant lowly, hands turning and twisting. Between her snow-white palms, a blue light began to crackle, fierce and cold. The crackling grew to twisting, larger and larger, and her smirk became a cold grin. With a large flourish, she threw her arms to the sky.

Across the North Pole, there erupted a blizzard, winds screaming, snow swirling. The Snow Queen laughed and threw her hands out, sending the blizzard south, covering the northern lights and their blasted brightness.

"After all," she said, grinning. "Nothing causes stress faster than a natural disaster."

* * *

Paperwork.

She couldn't understand it, but she was pretty sure it was a secondary curse. Every time, without fail, every time she sat down to complete some of the avalanche-like amount of paperwork that came with being a queen, that paperwork which piled up into mountains upon mountains of little notes, all of which _of course_ had to be signed by her own hand and sealed with her own ring- _that_ was when trouble struck.

And so she really wasn't that surprised when, the moment she picked up her quill, a maid burst into the study.

Elsa threw down the quill in frustration, splattering ink and little snowflakes all across the trade agreements with the Eastern Mountains. "Well the castle had better be on fire!"

* * *

The castle was on fire.

She ran through the halls, skirt grasped in hand and sprinting as fast as she could. She tripped over a rug and nearly fell, before continuing on down the corridor. The smoke grew thicker the closer she got to the conference room, where the maid had said the fire had started. She covered what would usually have been a five-minute walk in the space of about sixty seconds. As she rounded the corner, she stopped, mouth hanging agape.

All her life, she'd been afraid of fire. Terrified of it. When she was a child, she'd really believed that she would _melt, _and had been so fearful of it that she would shrink back at the sight of a candle. Of course, she'd eventually learned how ridiculous a thought this was, since after all she was still human- just maybe human and a little something extra. Even so, the old phobia had never quite left her, and so when she saw the conference room ablaze with flames and smoke billowing out of the open doors (which were also on fire and couldn't be shut), she stopped short in momentary terror. So stunned was she by the sight that she didn't even notice when the hinges on one of the burning doors, which had been twisting and melting due to the intense heat, suddenly snapped altogether. The door fell forward- straight towards Elsa.

"Queen Elsa!" Someone grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the way, just as the door crashed to the ground right where she'd been standing. "Are you alright?" Hans demanded.

"Yes, I-" She coughed on the smoke. "-I'm fine."

"You have to put the fire out!"

"Yes, yes, of course-"

"Hurry!"

Trying to clear her head- she could hardly breathe with all the smoke- she focused hard as she faced the heat, squinting slightly at the intense brightness of the flames. Raising her hands, she conjured up the feeling of snow in her bones.

The flames were doused by a stream of blizzard-like snow, pouring into the room incessantly until the fire had been entirely put out. Still coughing, she looked around. "Is everyone alright?" she called. Most of the nobles who were a part of her council and quite a few who weren't had arrived. At the general positive response, she looked over to Hans. "Thank y- your sleeve!"

"Thank my sleeve?" he said, baffled.

"No, your sleeve, it's on fire!"

He looked down, startled, and then quickly beat out the flames that were devouring the left sleeve of his jacket. "Is your arm burnt?" Elsa questioned, concerned.

"No, I'm fine," he said, inspecting the skin beneath where the jacket had been charred away.

"Well, that's fortunate, at least." She looked with despair at the conference room, which was now little more than a blackened-out hollow. "I can't believe this. How could this have happened?"

"Could someone have lit the fireplace and caught the rug on fire?" one of the nobles suggested.

"No; the fireplace is never lit in there," another countered.

"Someone go check the tinderbox."

One of the lords disappeared inside the room, which was now cool enough to enter, thanks to Elsa's emergency downpour. The Queen pinched the bridge of her nose, beginning to pace. "This is a disaster. We were supposed to hold a second meeting in there tomorrow- oh no!" she gasped, whirling around.

"What?" demanded Anna, who had hurried up next to her.

"Our papers! I had you all leave them in there!" Her expression turned to one of horror and guilt. "I never meant…"

"It wasn't your fault," Anna said sternly. "You couldn't have known that someone was going to try to burn down the castle."

"Was it intentional?" Kristoff said from his fiancé's side.

"We don't know yet."

"The steel and flint are still in the tinderbox," the lord who'd gone inside reported, hurrying out. "The outside's scorched, but the inside is still covered in dust. It looks like it was never even opened."

"Then someone must have brought in an extra set. Who was the last person in the room?" Elsa questioned.

"I was," Hans said. Everyone turned to look at him, and he suddenly realized that this was as good as an admission of guilt. "But I didn't do this."

"You expect us to take your word for it?!" one of the nobles demanded angrily.

"No, but you can take mine," Kristoff said, stepping forward. "He left just seconds after me; he never would've had time. Besides, I would've heard him strike the flint."

"Someone must've come in after we all left," Elsa agreed.

"I still say we shouldn't trust _him,"_ the nobleman said, glaring at Hans.

"Now hold on a minute, I didn't-" Hans started angrily, but Elsa cut him off.

"All of us here are under just as much suspicions as Prince Hans- in fact, anyone in this castle could be the perpetrator. We have no way to know at the present time." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Regardless of who started the fire, the report still needs to be taken care of. We can postpone it until after the wedding, at least. But we'll all need to redo the paperwork."

Several of the lords and ladies groaned, but Elsa held up a hand. "I know, I know. But it must be done. The council won't convene today; thank you all for your patience." Recognizing this as a dismissal, many of the nobles present walked off, grumbling to themselves.

When they were gone, Elsa turned to Hans. "Did you-"

"I told you, I had nothing to do with it!" he said emphatically.

"Let me finish," she replied sternly. He closed his mouth. "Did you see anyone when you left?"

"No," he answered. "Besides, even if I had, Mr. Bjorgman would've seen them, too."

She looked over at Kristoff, who shook his head. "No one."

Elsa gave a brief nod, biting her lip. "What about one of your brothers?" she questioned Hans.

"It's possible," he agreed, "but there wouldn't be any point to it. Agnar wants us to get married; the last thing he'd do is cause any sort of trouble that could prevent that."

"Then who?" Anna demanded. "For starters, Prince Charming, I don't see why I should believe you at all."

"I just said-," Hans started.

"Yeah, well, you said a lot of things," Anna said bitterly. "So you're going to need a better excuse than that."

Fighting the urge to start shouting, Hans took a breath and calmed himself. "Anna-"

_"Princess_ Anna," she snapped.

"Princess Anna, what use would there be for me to burn the conference room? If I really wanted to do any of you harm, I could have done so a long time ago. I know that doesn't exactly sound like an invitation to trust, but destroying a few grain reports does nothing to really hurt a kingdom- well, except give the queen a lot more work."

"Don't remind me," Elsa sighed. "Anna, he has a point; this doesn't do much except give me and the rest of us a little more to do. It's not as if it's going to be a major setback to the kingdom." She paused, and then said, "We can't allow the guests to feel endangered or we'll risk starting a riot, which is the last thing we need right now. Someone needs to start the rumor that a candle got tipped over or the like. Anna, you know the servants the best; you handle that. I'll tell the councilmembers that this has to be kept quiet. Understood?"

"Gotcha," Anna said, shooting one last glare in Hans's direction. "I'll see you guys later." She turned to go to the kitchen, and then stopped suddenly. "Kristoff, I know this isn't the best time, but do you maybe wanna go down to the docks today?"

The man had been heading back towards his chambers, but stopped when he heard this. Although his first impulse was to answer yes, he suddenly remembered what Agnar had said in the stables.

_Run the kingdom into the ground._

He cleared his throat, glancing back. "No, uh, I've got some work I gotta do. Maybe later."

"Oh," she said surprised. "Okay, then." She gave a quick goodbye to Elsa, pointedly ignored Hans, and then started down the nearest flight of stairs.

Elsa couldn't help but chuckle a little as she watched her go, despite the disaster behind her. Hans glanced at her, annoyed. "What?"

"Just that there's a lot more to Anna than meets the eye," she said vaguely. "Who knew she could be so effective at freezing people out?"

The same thing ran through their minds at the exact same moment, and Hans opened his mouth to say it, before quickly closing it shut. That would be a low blow if there ever was one.

Elsa, however, bit her lip again, harder this time, and then said softly, "I… suppose she learned from the best."

"Perhaps she did," Hans agreed quietly.

Elsa looked over at him sharply, no doubt intending to shoot him with some barbed retort, but then she saw again the scorched, charred mess behind him, and groaned. "This could not have happened at a worse time. I'm already busy enough as it is; the last thing I needed was paperwork to redo."

"Well, to be frank, there isn't much you can do about it now," Hans said bluntly. She shot him a look, and he added, "It's about suppertime; you ought to eat. I'm sure things will seem less impossible after a ham-and-cheese sandwich."

"Oh, you're 'sure,' are you?" she said, but she was giving a small, rueful smile at this. "I'll see you later, Prince Hans."

"Until then, your Majesty." He inclined his head slightly, and then both turned and went in the opposite directions.

* * *

_The prison cell was cold and damp, and he shivered slightly as he lay the unconscious woman down on the bench. He located the cuffs that one of the guardsmen said seemed to have been created for this very purpose, and methodically locked her slender hands inside._

_He stared at her sleeping form. Even at rest, her face was distraught, exhausted. There were rings under her eyes, like bruises in her pale skin, and she looked so horribly pathetic and unhappy. Like an ice queen starved by her own frozen fears._

_ He was going to have to kill this woman._

_ It was a much more distasteful idea than he'd thought it would be. The Queen looked so- so helpless. So small and timid, like a child scared of her own shadow. He didn't know why this made the idea even the slightest bit repulsive; if anything, it should have elated him to know that the Queen would be much easier to take down, now that she was at her most vulnerable. But it didn't._

_ His father would have berated him for such weakness; his brothers would have jeered at him and called him a gutless fool. But some part of him- the part he stubbornly kept at bay, because if he didn't it would overrun his nearly deadened conscious and ruin his whole plan- made him reach for the thin gray blanket off to the side and drape it over the queen, whether she felt the cold or not._

_ After all, she would probably have to die, somehow, if his scheme were to succeed. He felt he owed her at least this small comfort._

_ His hands felt like they were burning inside his gloves; a feverish feeling was spreading up his arms and flushing him with heat. He stared down at the woman before him and wondered when exactly he'd decided that he'd have to put an end to her life. Had it been when she forbade her sister to marry him? Or even before, on the terrace with Anna? And then that chandelier…_

_ That had been a mistake. An intelligent, calculated mistake, maybe, but a mistake nonetheless. It had been perfect; everything was set up for the queen to die at her own hand. The ideal chance. He wouldn't have even been to blame! But he'd knocked the crossbow upwards to shatter the glass, saving her life and knocking her unconscious. He didn't have to ask himself why he'd done it, he knew the reason perfectly well: cowardice. The idea of seeing this pretty, delicate person cut through in a dozen places made his stomach twist in revulsion. Was it weakness? Was it conscience?_

_ My God, what was he doing?_

_ He stood up, trying to steady his shaking hands. The Queen didn't have to die right now, anyway. That could wait. It could give him time to… to better prepare. Besides, he needed her to end the winter. No, she didn't have to die yet. Maybe she wouldn't have to die at all; maybe if Anna never came back, he could turn his attentions to her, as had been his original plan. In any case, he didn't have to worry about that now. He could put off the deed indefinitely, if he wished. Perhaps he would._

_ He walked out of the cell and closed the door behind him._

_ As he turned, he found himself not in the dungeon corridor, but instead standing off to the side of an empty ballroom- well, nearly empty. There were two figures in the center, dancing to a beautiful waltz. The woman was a pale blonde and dressed in a lovely light pink, slightly shimmery dress that fell to about mid-calf, like a dancer's dress. The man had donned a white suit-coat and had reddish-brown hair. Upon closer examination, he realized that the woman was Elsa and the man was… himself?_

_ Yet it didn't seem too terribly odd to him, to be watching his doppelganger dance with the queen. Smiling slightly, he sat down on a nearby chair to watch._

_ His other self spun the queen slowly and pulled her closer again, taking her bare hand in his white-gloved own. Hans, the real Hans, frowned slightly, looking around. Where was the music coming from? He could see no orchestra, no string quartet to bring the waltz to life._

_ His attention was drawn back to the pair in the center as his alter spun the Queen and then pulled her close. Goodness, she was beautiful. Even lying in that little prison cell she'd been beautiful, not that he'd noticed further than a passing observance. But now…_

_ His twin touched the queen's chin, and Elsa smiled, looking up at him. She closed her eyes as the other Hans tilted her face upwards. Even this did not seem odd to the real Hans…_

_ …At least, not until he saw the knife._

_ He stumbled to his feet in horror as the other him drew a knife out of his back pocket. Elsa's eyes were still closed, and Hans tried to call out to her, to warn her- but he couldn't make a sound. The other him brought his arm around the petite queen, the knife glinting, poised to strike. Hans tried to rush forward, to shout, to do something, anything- but he'd gone mute and immobile in the same instant. All he could do was scream voicelessly as the other him brought the knife plunging down._

"Elsa!"

He sat up straight in bed, breathing heavily. His hands were shaking violently, and Hans ran one of them through his hair, looking around.

The room was dark. He was… in bed? His bed. In the Arendellian castle.

Slowly, he realized that it had all been a dream- part memory, part fabrication of his own mind. Elsa was fine. The Queen was fine. Everyone was alive and well.

_No thanks to you,_ a snickering voice whispered in the back of his head.

Hans flinched slightly at the accusation, but that it was true. Would he have done that to the queen? Yes. Without a doubt. _But I'm not the same now,_ he argued with himself. _I've changed._

_ Have you?_ the voice whispered back.

Had he? If given the opportunity, would he- would he-?

"Enough," he muttered aloud. "You'll drive yourself mad, thinking like this." More than one hardened criminal had been driven to self-harm by such things; the moment the remorse had first struck, all those months ago in the cold prison cell, and left him doubled over and gasping for air through choking sobs- in that moment, he had sworn to himself through the pain that he wouldn't allow himself to be pushed to insanity by his guilt.

It was too hot in here, he decided. He needed to walk around, get some fresh air. Trying to even out his breathing again, Hans swung his legs over the side of the bed and headed for the bedroom door. Just as his hand landed on it, he paused, fourteen years of custom reminding him that a proper prince _never_ went out in public without gloves. He hesitated, debating whether it would matter at this time of night, especially considering he was in his nightclothes- but then he sighed as force of habit compelled him to grab the pair off his dresser and yank them on, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it as he did so.

The hallways were dark, and Hans had nothing but the silvery light of the moon to guide him as he walked the corridors, still dressed in his bedclothes. Eventually, his wanderings led him to a pair of large oak doors on the second floor, which he recognized as the doors to the library. He opened them quietly and slipped inside.

The library appeared deserted and dark, save for the slight bluish glow in the back he attributed to the moonlight, so he lit a candle and used that to set the other candles in the wall sconces aflame, until the part of the room he was in was filled with a warm light. As he looked around, he found that he was in sort of a sitting parlor area of the library, complete with several cushy armchairs, a couch, and a piano.

His face lit up slightly as he saw the piano, and he walked over, running a hand along the lacquered wooden top. It was a beautiful instrument, a baby grand with white ivory keys and burnished metal pedals. Hans loved music. Playing the piano was one of only two pastimes that had ever helped to settle his mind and calm his senses. Music and sailing, his two passions, were the only things he'd known would never change: the sea would always be blue, and an F-chord was never suddenly going to include a C#.

He sat down at the piano, pressing one of the keys lightly. It rang out softly with a pure, sweet sound. Quietly, he began to press out the melody of a tune, one note at a time.

"That's _Deilig er Jorden."_

He jumped and turned around on the bench. Elsa was looking back at him, dressed in a white nightgown and navy dressing-robe, holding a red leather-bound book in hand. Her braid was loose and messy, as if she'd been tossing and turning on it, and she had donned a pair of pale pink slippers. Dancing blue snowflakes flitted around her fingers, and he realized that she'd created her own light to read by. "Um, yes, it is," he said. "I didn't think any Arendellians would recognize it."

"Oh, it's very popular," she commented, walking over to the piano. "What are you doing up?"

"I could you the same question."

"I asked you first," she pointed out.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but I still have the option of not answering."

She rolled her eyes, and then admitted, "I couldn't sleep- worrying about the fire, you know. And you?"

"A similar predicament." He neglected to add the fact that the predicament had something to do with her. While he'd thought the queen's presence would make him nervous and uncomfortable, especially after such a dream, he found that the relaxed, contented and very much _alive _Elsa in front of him paradoxically seemed to bring with her a sense of calm, which he found most welcome. Hans nodded to the book in her hand. "What are you reading?"

_"Treatise on Law,"_ she answered, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "It's so heavy that I thought it might help me get some rest, but my mind seems determined to run itself in circles tonight." She gestured to the piano. "Do you play?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"Not very well." She smiled a little reminiscently. "Mama used to play _Deilig er Jorden_ every Christmas."

"Really?" he said, surprised. "So did mine, until she passed. I asked my instructor to teach it to me when I was old enough." He paused, and then admitted, "It's always been my favorite."

"How old were you?" she asked hesitantly

"When she died? Eight." His hands shifted slightly on the keys. "She and my father- well, they were never a very happy couple, but that year was the worst. They argued constantly. I think the stress took its toll on her, and… she fell ill. She was gone within the month."

Elsa's eyes were sad, stunned. Her parents' deaths had been hard enough on her as an adult; to lose one's mother while still so young… "…I'm so sorry," she said honestly.

"I'm not," he said quietly. "She would be appalled, to see what I've become."

Elsa bit her lip and looked away, unsure what to say. Eventually, she settled on, "Could I hear you play?"

He shrugged wordlessly, and began to play again. His hands moved across the keys effortlessly, and Elsa began to sing softly.

"_Deilig er jorden,_

_prektig er Guds himmel,_

_Skjønn er sjelenes pilgrimsgang!"_

"_Gjennom de fagre," _he joined in,

"_riker på jorden,_

_går vi til paradis med sang."_

They finished in perfect harmony. For a moment, the note hung in the air, and then faded off into silence.

"…You play very well," Elsa said finally.

"Yes, well… I had very good training," he deflected.

"Do you mind if I read a little?" she said, gesturing to a couch a few feet away.

"By all means. If you want me to stop…?"

"No, please, continue. It's… it's lovely."

No one had ever praised his playing so highly before- indeed, no one had ever so much as noticed. A talent for music was not exactly a cause for high acclaim in the Southern royal family. "…Thank you," he said uncertainly. Elsa smiled slightly and nodded, sitting down on the couch.

Hans began to play again, more quietly than before. When he got through the piece, he turned around to see if he was distracting Elsa from her reading. Much to his surprise, he found that the Queen had fallen asleep. She was lying on the couch, snoring softly with her book still in hand.

Hans smiled despite himself, stood up, and walked over. She looked so peaceful, much less like a queen and much more like an innocent young woman. Careful not to wake her, he disentangled her fingers from the book and laid it down on the ground beside her, marking the page. He reached for the blue woolen blanket that hung over the back of the couch and draped it over her gently. Whether or not the Queen felt the cold, he didn't know, but he felt he owed that much to her.

_ After all, she would probably have to die, somehow, if his scheme were to succeed. He felt he owed her at least this small comfort._

He took a sharp breath, stunned, for before his eyes there had flashed another, almost identical image of the Queen: exhausted, alone, unconscious and terrified. He let go of the blanket, baffled. The same sensation he'd had all those months ago in the cold, dirty cell had resurfaced, but in a much stronger, more potent form. He tried to put a finger on it. Satisfaction? No. Concern? That was close, but not quite…

_Tenderness._

The word came to him as easily as if someone had whispered it to him, and as he realized that it was right, he stumbled backwards as if struck. _What in the world…?_

He stared at Elsa, so innocent and harmless in her unconscious state, and felt a sense of dread again replace the kindness. It couldn't be. _It couldn't be._ There was no way that he, of all people, could possibly- could possibly _care_ for someone in that manner, let alone _her._

Without really thinking about it, he turned and began to walk very quickly out of the library. Faster and faster he walked, until he broke into a run. By the time he finally reached his room, his bubbling panic had spilled over the sides.

He burst into the little bathroom in his chambers and slammed the door behind him, bracing himself against the sink. His own labored breathing did not cease even then, for the memories refused to stop-

_-"Oh, Anna," he said in fake pity, smirking. "If only there were someone out there who loved you."-_

_ -"Your sister is dead!" Elsa stared, disbelieving, and he delivered the final blow. "…Because of you..."-_

_ -He swung the sword, grinning as he felt the success course through his veins, he was so close, so close!-_

He came to and found himself staring into green eyes. He blinked. So did the eyes. After a moment, he realized he was looking at his own reflection in the bathroom vanity.

"Look at you," he whispered hoarsely to the Hans on the other side of the glass. "You fool, you _fool. _How could you not have seen this happening?"

His reflection offered no reply, but Hans needed none. "Do you think she could care for you after what you did to her?" he demanded of himself. "To her sister?" He shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. The whole room seemed too small, and he felt almost feverish, too hot and too cold at the same time. How? How could this have happened? He'd tried to- to kill this woman; how could he possibly…?

"She can't know," he decided aloud. "If she ever found out… No. You're lucky she even considers you an acquaintance. That she _trusts _you. Don't risk losing that for some absurd hope." Again he saw, less sharply than before, his own hand drawing the sword. "She could _never_ feel the same."

His own haggard expression looked back at him, and Hans sighed, running the taps and splashing his face with cool water. Everything was alright. Everything was _fine. _For Heaven's sake, he'd managed to fool Anna into believing he was in love with her, surely he could play the opposite for the Queen's sake?

Yes, he could, he decided as he shut off the taps and peeled off his soaked gloves, hanging them over the faucet to dry. He could and he would, because he had to. Elsa could never see him in such a way, not after what he'd done. And besides, this would pass; these things always did. He straightened up and wiped his face dry, ignoring the little voice that whispered as he walked out of the bathroom, _well, at least, he hoped it would._

* * *

**A/N: Whew! Intense chapter; I hope you all enjoyed it. Remember, reviews make the world go 'round!**

**By the way, ten magical snowflakes to anyone who recognized the book Elsa was reading. ; )**


	15. Chapter 13: A Matter of Hypocrisy

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: The * asterisks you see will be to references in the footnotes at the bottom of the page.**

* * *

"Kristoff!"

The ice harvester looked up, surprised, as the door to his room burst open. Anna waved a cheery hello. "Happy Saturday!"

"Hey, Anna." He felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Why did she have to be here now? He'd managed to evade her all of Thursday, even after he'd finished his work, and even all of Friday, but apparently she'd tracked him down again. That was his own fault, he supposed; after all, he'd been the one stupid enough to stay in his room too long.

"Whatcha doin'?" she said happily, bounding over to where he was sitting at his desk.

"Uh- just the grain report. Thought, you know, I'd get a head start on it. Don't wanna push it off too long."

"Oh, okay. Well, can you take a break for a little bit?"

"Why?" he said, without committing to an answer.

"I just needed to talk to you about the cake real quick. Cook is wondering if we still wanted the frosted flowers on it, or if it should be changed to snowflakes, since Elsa's getting married too and all."

"Um- I dunno, do whatever you want." He stood up, gathering his things.

"Where are you going?" Anna said, frowning a little in confusion.

"Just uh-" _Where was he going? He had to think up some excuse._ "To talk to some of the families of my guys, y'know, the ice harvesters. Gotta make my rounds."

"Really? That sounds like fun! Can I come with?"

Her expression was so eager that it made his stomach twist even tighter with guilt at having lied to her. "No, I think I should do this on my own."

"Oh…" She trailed off, looking a little disappointed. "Well… have a good time." She offered him a hopeful smile.

He couldn't stand that smile; it made him feel like such a weasel. "Um, yeah. I will. Thanks." He quickly hurried away, shutting the door behind him.

As it clicked shut, Anna's smile faded, and she looked at the wooden paneling of the door. _Is he avoiding me?_

* * *

"-I mean, he just randomly started disappearing all the time, like he doesn't want me to find him, and as soon as I do, he leaves again! What's with that? Do you think he's trying to avoid me? What if I'm annoying him? What if he feels like I'm getting push and bossy? Oh no, what if I _am_ getting pushy and bossy?" She looked down at her companion, worried. "I'm just overthinking this, right?"

The duckling looked back up at her and answered, _"Quack!"_

She sighed, leaning against the back of the bench. Even in winter, the garden was still beautiful. "Yeah, I know. I must be reading into this too much. He's probably just really busy, that's all." She bit her lip. "But what should I do about it?"

The duckling gave another low quack, and Anna frowned sternly. "No way! I am _not_ going to Elsa about something as small as this! I mean, she's already got enough on her plate, having to pretend she's marrying Prince Shmarming and all that." She huffed, annoyed. "What I wouldn't do to give that guy the old one-two!" She jabbed with her fist into the air in front of her like her little cotton gloves were boxing mitts.

When she looked down again, she saw a line of ducklings following a mother duck stop in front of her. The mother duck honked at her, irritated, and Anna gasped and quickly put the duckling down. "Sorry! Here, ducky; go back with your mama."

The duckling quacked happily, and followed the mother duck and his siblings off into the white wonderland. Anna sighed as she watched them, especially the mother duck. "You're such a good mom," she said wistfully. "Does that just come naturally to you? Is it hardwired into you? Do you think I have that?" A horrible idea dawned on her. "What if I don't? What if there's something just, I don't know, un-motherly about me?"

It was such an awful thought that she quickly covered her hand with her mouth, as if just speaking the words were bad. But what if it were true? Ever since her little talk with the Southern king, she'd been wondering more and more if she were fit to get married, have children. As much as she _wanted_ to have that little gaggle of strawberry-blonde toddlers running around, what if she turned out to be a terrible mother? Or worse, what if she were a terrible _wife?_ Sure, she was a good girlfriend and fiancé, but that was a whole lot different than being married to somebody. Normally, she would have talked to Kristoff about this sort of thing, but it was pretty clear that Kristoff didn't want to talk right now.

"One day at a time," she repeated to herself, taking a deep breath. "You can worry about that later. Right now, you need to talk to Cook about the cake."

She stood up, brushed the snow off her skirt, and headed for the garden gate. _One day at a time…_

* * *

Sunday morning was slightly overcast, but no snow fell upon the bustling town, probably by the Queen's design. The bells for morning Mass began to ring around eight forty-five, and again, Hans found himself the first in the church. As he headed for the stairwell, a voice stopped him. "Son?"

He turned, and saw Bishop Willum standing a few paces away. "Your Excellency."

"Please, call me Willum; everyone does. I never could do with all that 'excellency' business. I just wanted you to know that there will be a choir today; the director was a little under the weather last week, but she seems to be up on her feet again now. I'm afraid the loft will be quite full."

"Oh." His heart sunk a little at that, but he rather liked the bishop and didn't want to disappoint him by missing the service. "Yes, well, thank you for informing me." As other parishioners started to file in, Hans took a seat in the middle back, which was a little more in shadows than the rest of the church and, hopefully, not as conspicuous.

His hopes, unfortunately, were unfounded. Despite the fact that he'd chosen to sit in the least noticeable place possible, the churchgoers still all seemed to look right at him as they walked in. The kinder ones appeared surprised, and then quickly glanced away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable; others, however, were less sensitive and gawked openly, while a good portion went so far as to glare at him accusingly. Hans swallowed and tried to ignore them, but it was more difficult than he'd thought. As Anna, Elsa and Kristoff walked into the church, the first of the trio saw him, and her eyes widened, before narrowing again and pointedly looking away.

Eventually, the whole chapel was full- even the row he was in, although the people to his right and left looked rather unhappy about their seating location. As soon as the bishop started the Mass, the whispers began to fly. Hans tried to pay attention to what was going on up front, but it was made impossible by the fact that the repetitive Latin was drowned out by the low, angry murmurs. All throughout the readings and chants, he could hear their disgruntled undertones, like an itch he couldn't scratch.

"Today we hear the warning of Johan the Baptist to the Pharisees, and his order to bear good fruits as a sign of repentance…"*_  
_

He started slightly when he heard the bishop begin his sermon in the common language, but his attention was quickly drawn away again by the muttering. He'd made a terrible mistake, he could see that now. Everyone was staring at him. He could hear their whispers under Willum's drone, to which no one was really paying attention.

"…What is he doing in here?"

"How dare he presume…"

_ "Murderer."_

The last one stung, but others just as quickly followed. He kept his eyes fixed determinedly on the wood grain of the pew in front of him, but it couldn't stop him from hearing their low, accusing inquiries, prickling the back of his neck. He wanted to sink through the floor or run out the door, but neither was much of an option, and all he could do was sit there and feel the heavy weight of shame bend his head lower and lower. He'd been such a fool, to think he belonged here with them, pretending he was a good man when they all knew who he was, _who he was-_

_ "Ahem!"_

At the sound of someone loudly clearing his throat, the whispers stopped and everyone turned to look forward, startled. Hans glanced up quickly, and then back down. Willum had stopped speaking, and indeed it was he who had coughed, drawing the congregation's attention back to him.

Hans didn't dare raise his eyes again, but he knew what had to be coming, and he felt the humiliation rise hot in his cheeks. Kind though the bishop was, certainly even he wouldn't allow his service to be disrupted by the prince's presence. He sat with his head down, waiting with trepidation for the bishop to clear his throat again and quietly ask him to leave.

"But you know, it's very interesting, isn't it?" Willum said suddenly, in a different tone than before; it was louder, more direct, and caused the prince to look up again in surprise. The bishop folded up the piece of paper with his homily on it as if it were no longer needed and stepped away from the lectern, beginning to pace in front of the altar. "I think perhaps we fall into the trap of believing that these people we read about were perfect," Willum continued, voice pleasant and conversational, but beneath it, there was a steely message that he intended to get across. "They weren't very clean characters, oh Heavens, no. Why, who would have believed that the ancestor of a great nation would be a traitor who sold his own brother into slavery? Or that a beloved king would betray his friend and send him to his death to wed his wife?" Willum paused, and looked straight at Hans. "Or that a prince who had committed a heinous crime, the crime of murder," he said, voice soft, "would one day lead his people from oppression?"**_  
_

It was so quiet, one could have heard a pin drop.

"No, they were not very clean-cut people," Willum said, speaking again to the whole congregation, all of whom looked away uncomfortably as he met their eyes. "Many were tax collectors and thieves and even killers. But strangely enough, when compassion was shown to them, they transformed in spectacular fashion. Where would they be, without mercy- or where would we, for that matter? We must be careful, therefore, not to become hypocrites, and fall into the trap of believing somehow that we are better than the traitors and murderers. Yet, when forgiveness is chosen over anger, when empathy is employed instead of bitterness, we bring a great change over the world. We all want to be forgiven, and so we, too, must also forgive. That, my friends, is the lesson of today's readings. In fact, it is the lesson of Christmas itself."

The church was dead silent. Willum gave a short nod and walked up to the altar.

And nobody dared whisper again.

* * *

When church was over, the prince was surprised to see that many of the people's attitudes had changed. While a few still shot him dirty looks, many more made it a point to tell him "good morning," or at least half-smile, half-wince apologetically at him. Hans wanted to thank the bishop, but the church was too crowded to get through at the start, and before he could cut through, a hand caught at his elbow.

He looked back, startled, and saw Princess Anna chewing on her bottom lip. "Um, hey," she said, quickly letting go of his arm. "I was wondering… could we maybe talk?"

"Oh- I suppose," he said, startled. "What is it?"

She fiddled with her hands and looked around at the remaining parishioners. Hans understood, and they waited for the others to leave. Once the church was empty, she said, "Listen, Hans… I think there's something I need to say."

His heart sunk at her nervous tone. It was the first time Anna had spoken to him in private since that fateful day in the study_._ "Princess, I-"

"Just- don't speak, okay?" Anna said awkwardly, wringing her hands. Hans closed his mouth and waited for her to continue. "Look, um… what Willum said, it really got to me, y'know? Like, 'cause everybody messes up, I mean, I know I mess up, and um…" She cut off her babbling and let out a sigh. "Look, I know I've been terrible to you ever since you got here."

"I don't blame you-"

"I said not to speak," she cut in, and then apologized. "Sorry. I just need to get this all out before I lose my nerve. So, um… like I said, I've been… I've been pretty mean. And no matter what you did, that's not okay, you know? And… And I want to say that I'm sorry."

He blinked. "You're… apologizing? To _me?"_

"You… you _really_ hurt me, Hans." His eyes found the ground at this, and Anna bit her lip before continuing. "But I don't like holding grudges, not even against you. So… I'm forgiving you."

Han's mouth fell open in shock, and it took him a moment to find his voice. "Anna- Princess Anna- I don't understand. I- I broke your heart, I left you for dead. …Why in the world would you want to forgive me?"

"Because it's not really about me," Anna said simply. "I mean, trust me, if I wanted to feel better about the whole thing, I'd go eat a box of chocolates or something. But…" She sighed. "But, I know what it's like, to feel… shut out. And whether you deserve it or not, it _really_ sucks. …I guess I didn't realize until just now that that's what I've been doing to you." Her blue-green eyes were determined. "And I don't want to do that to _anyone,_ no matter what."

She was so sincere, so fiercely genuine that Hans knew she had to be telling the truth. "You… really want to forgive me?" he said, just to make sure.

"I really do." She smiled nervously. "Do you- do you think we could be friends?"

He stared, and then bowed humbly. "Princess Anna, I am incredibly indebted to your kindness. If you wish to be friends with me, after all I've done to you and your kingdom… I would be honored."

Her face broke into a grin. "Great!" She hugged him briefly, much to his shock, and then walked to the door. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Alright." He smiled as she left, and ran a hand through his red hair, incredulous. It felt is if a huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. As he turned, he saw Willum standing at the door to the sacristy room. "Thank you," he said gratefully, knowing that he'd made this happen.

The older man smiled. "For what?" And he disappeared into the room once more.

* * *

**A/N: *The verse being referred to here is Matthew 3:1-12, the reading used on the second sunday of advent in liturgical year A.**

****The Biblical figures referenced here are Judah, King David and Moses, respectively.**

**I really hope you liked it. : ) Please tell me what you think! ****Also, I'd like to send a particular shout-out to my friend EvelynMcKay, the author of a wonderful story "A Sequel to Frozen," and a wonderful person in general. Pax et bonum, my friend!**


	16. Chapter 14: From the Mouth of Babes

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Monday found Kristoff sitting in a dusty old study in some obscure corner of the castle, peering through his glasses at nearly two-dozen sheets of paper. The legal language was just about giving him an aneurism, and it didn't help that he was hardly able to concentrate on the report at all.

All he could think about was Anna. Or, rather, how unsuited he was for her. Sure, he loved her to death- but was that enough? He wasn't just marrying some farmer girl or a miller's daughter; he was marrying the crown princess of Arendelle, the sole heir to the throne in the case anything unfortunate happened to her beloved sister. That meant that he was going to be the crown prince: the heir to the rule of Arendelle. A potential king. Heaven knew Kristoff wasn't a king. Sure, he was smart- in a common-sense sort of way. Yeah, he knew business and persuasion and all those tricks of the trade- but how helpful would they be as a member of the royal court?

_You're driving yourself nuts,_ he could almost hear Sven say in his head. _Anna loves you, doesn't she?_

But whoever said that that was enough? What if he wasn't good enough for the throne? What if he wasn't good enough for _Anna?_ What if one day, she caught on that her big, bumbling oaf of a husband was the furthest thing from a prince? What if one day, she finally saw he was just some bumpkin who got lucky when he walked into the trading post that crazy July day? What if one day, she woke up and realized she'd made _the biggest mistake of her life?_

"There you are!"

He just about fell out of his chair. Starting and turning to the left, he saw Anna herself smiling at him. Was it just his imagination, or did she look a little nervous?

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she said, plopping down in the armchair beside him. "I need your help."

"Huh? With what?" Already he was beginning to surreptitiously move his papers into a stack and take of his glasses, wanting to leave.

"It's Cook again. She wants you to taste the main dishes she has to see which one we should have?"

"Just tell her to take the one you like," Kristoff said, standing up. "I trust your judgment." _In food, at least._

Anna frowned slightly. "Hey… you feeling okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

"Well… you were missing all yesterday, and the day before that, and before that…" She bit her lip, standing up and clasping her hands in front of her. "I'm just worried about you."

His stomach twisted even tighter. Great. He'd made her worry about him. Some fiancé he was. "I'm fine," he said again. It came out sounding less sincere than he meant it to.

"You sure?" she said doubtfully.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Would I say it if I weren't sure?" He was hoping she'd take his slightly annoyed tone as her hint to leave.

"Well, sometimes you try to, y'know, just ignore stuff like that, and besides, I feel like you've been hiding from me." When he didn't answer right away, her frown deepened. "What, have you?"

"No, I- no, of course not."

"Then why do you keep disappearing whenever I try to find you?" she said, crossing her arms.

"I've been- busy."

"Busy with what?"

"Things!"

"Kristoff, I know you're trying to avoid me!" she insisted, finally laying her cards on the table. "Why? At least give me an answer!"

"Look, Anna, I just need some time to myself, okay?" Kristoff said, irritated and turning to go.

"I've given you time! I've given you plenty of time!" she said, finally fed up. "I feel like I haven't seen you all week! Kristoff, _what is going on?"_ she grabbed at his shirtsleeve, but he yanked his arm away.

"Look, can't you just leave me alone?!" he demanded, whirling around. "All you ever do is nag me and I'm getting pretty sick of it!"

Anna took a step back, stunned. "…S-sorry," she said, voice small. "I-I didn't realize…"

"Yeah, well…" Her eyes were so sad that he instantly felt guilty, but he didn't want to apologize because he was worried Anna would start pressing the matter, and then everything would really spiral out of control. "Just… let me be, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed quietly. "Um… see ya." She hesitated, and then turned and left.

Kristoff sighed as he heard her footsteps walk away on the carpet. Great. Now he _really_ felt guilty. But at least she hadn't pushed. She hadn't figured it out yet, just how worried he was that he'd be an inadequate prince, an inadequate husband for a princess like her.

But even as he sat down again to his paperwork, he couldn't help but wonder if he even had the _right_ to marry Anna. What made him any better than Hans, really? Wasn't he banking on her kind, unquestioning nature just as much as that creep had? Wasn't he, too, pretending he'd be a good prince? At least Hans had had the proper training. What did he have? A reindeer, a saw, a sleigh and a lute? Practically nothing. That was when the worst thought of all hit: _What if Hans had been the better choice?_

At any other point, Kristoff would have rejected this thought with a snort. But staring down at a pile of papers and a future uncertain, with guilt twisting in his stomach, the thought stuck. And if a maniac who left Anna for dead could possibly be the more sensible option…

…What did that make _him?_

* * *

Hans, meanwhile, was likewise trying not to be found. The castle gardens were bare and covered in snow, and thankfully empty. Although the air was cold, Hans took off his white gloves and laid them on top of a low brick wall, leaning his elbows on the edge of it with a sigh.

For the past several days, he'd been intentionally avoiding Elsa, making sure to never go anywhere she may be found- the royal chamber corridor, the library, the studies, etc. The tenderness and kindness he'd felt that night in the library quite honestly terrified him. He knew that he, of all people, had no right to have any sort of- of _feelings_ for the Arendellian queen. The whole idea was so absurd it would have made him laugh, if the situation weren't so serious.

Wanting to get rid of some of the anxiety, he stepped away from the wall and drew his sword out of its sheath. Walking three steps forward and swinging the blade experimentally, he cut through an imaginary opponent with a cross-body slice and turned a full circle, ending with a finishing blow and a rather pleased, "Hah!"

"Wow!"

He looked over, surprised, and saw the little snowman Elsa had created looking at him with awe. "Oh. Uh-" He tried to re-sheath the sword, missed, and then managed to stick the blade back in its scabbard.

"You're really good!" the snowman exclaimed, wide-eyed and enthralled. "Where'd you learn to do that, huh?"

"Um- I… was trained. When I was younger." Hans had no clue what to say. For Heaven's sake, he was talking to a _snowman!_ What did one do in that sort of a situation?

"Oh, that's cool." The little snowman waddled over. "I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!" He held out his arms wide.

Hans raised both eyebrows and said, "Er, yes, well… I'm Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles."

"You're- oh!" Olaf's eyes went wide as he suddenly recognized the man, and Hans looked away, biting his tongue. A moment passed, and the snowman said uncomfortably. "Well… now this is awkward. I mean, you sort of broke my friend's heart and went after my other friend and all that, so…"

"Thank you," Hans said sarcastically, "for captioning the obvious. Now if you'll excuse me-" He made as if to leave.

"Oh no you don't!" Olaf said, jumping off the bench. "You're not going anywhere, buddy!"

"Not to be rude, but you can't really stop me," Hans pointed out, still walking.

"Oh yeah?" The snowman got in front and started to push against Hans's legs in a valiant but futile effort. Hans, a little impressed at his tenacity, actually stopped walking as the snowman started to futilely beat the prince's legs with his little twig fists. Eventually Olaf wore himself out, and flopped down on the ground, leaning with his head against Hans's ankle. "I'll- get- you- next time," he panted out.

Deciding to take pity on the little guy, Hans sat down a nearby bench. "Thanks," Olaf wheezed as he hopped up beside him. "I needed a breather."

"From venting your frustration on my shins?" Hans muttered under his breath.

"Yeah." Olaf looked at him, a very hurt frown on his face. "I just don't get it. I mean, who could ever want to hurt _Anna?_ Or Elsa? I mean, they're the warmest, nicest people I know."

"That makes two of us," Hans agreed, thinking about how readily Anna had shown him mercy.

"I mean, Anna said you seemed like a pretty nice guy, and then just, _wham!"_ He smacked his little stick hands together. "It just… it doesn't make any sense. Why would anyone do something like that?"

Hans let out a low sigh. "It's… complicated."

"Oh." Olaf frowned again, sitting down on the bench. "Anyways, I don't think I wanna give you a hug anymore."

"I don't blame you," Hans said quietly.

Surprised, Olaf looked over and frowned at Hans slightly. "Hey, you're really sorry, aren't you?" The auburn-haired man didn't answer, but Olaf understood anyway. "Oh, I didn't realize you felt bad about it! I'm sorry; I can still give you a hug, if you want."

Still a little creeped out by the snowman, Hans shook his head warily. "No, that's- that's fine."

"Well, okay then." Olaf's spirits seemed a little uplifted, and he stood up again on the bench. "So you and Elsa are getting married?"

"Um-" He wondered if the Queen had told Olaf about their little 'arrangement,' and decided that she probably hadn't- after all, it was a bit complicated for the obviously very simple snowman, and besides, he didn't seem the sort to be able to keep a secret. "Yes. We are."

"But you don't love each other?"

_I suppose you could call it a little one-sided,_ Hans thought ruefully. "…Not exactly."

"Then why are you getting married?" He seemed truly baffled by this. "Anna and Kristoff are getting married because they're in love."

"It's a political marriage," Hans said, unsure whether to be irritated or amused by the snowman's naivety.

"Ohhh," Olaf said, as if this explained everything, even though he was still clearly confused. "So… isn't that going to be awkward? Since she doesn't like you and all…"

Hans couldn't help but chuckle grimly at that. "Yes, I'd imagine so." He shrugged his shoulders. "But that's just the way things are."

Olaf had adopted a sort of pondering look on his face, a comical expression for him. "Well… why don't you change that?"

Hans looked down, surprised. "What?"

"Sure. I mean, Anna and Elsa weren't very close at all, in the beginning, but now- I mean, they do just about _everything_ together."

"That's different."

"Why? Why couldn't you two be friends?"

Hans was about to retort with the obvious- _because Elsa never meant to hurt Anna, because they'd always loved each other and just never showed it, because they're sisters and I'm the megalomaniac who went sword-crazy-_ when he paused to think about it. Surely, he and Elsa had been far more civil lately, and while the _new development _(he still hadn't decided what to call it) was certainly out of the question, there was no reason they couldn't at least be _friendly_ towards each other. And besides, avoiding the woman like she had the Black Death was undoubtedly _not_ the best strategy for fooling his brother.

"You know, Olaf, that's not a terrible idea," he said, surprised. "Thank you."

"Oh yeah, no problem," the snowman said, happy to have been of help. "Well, I'm gonna go talk to Sven; see ya!" He waddled away.

The gears in Hans's mind had started to turn. Friends. They could be friends, or at least acquaintances. Hans hadn't had a friend in a long time- in fact, he couldn't remember an instance in which he honestly could call someone a trusted companion. He had the feeling that it was the same with Elsa, save of course for her sister and Kristoff.

Perhaps it was possible; after all, he had nothing to lose by trying. He could be charming, kind, generous, fair- everything he'd been with Anna, only this time, it would have to be honest. That was the rub: honesty. Honesty got people hurt. Honesty was a fantastic way to lose one's head. But then again, he and Elsa were already in on an execution-worthy conspiracy; as before, he had little to lose.

_Well,_ he decided, _the first thing I should do is stop trying to evade her. But I'll wait until tomorrow, when I've had time to think this through._

And with this thought in mind, he stood up and headed out of the garden.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; I know it was short but I decided to post this week's a little early. Please review, and God bless you all!**


	17. Chapter 15: The Gathering Storm

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

The man watched the sky with furrowed brow. Despite the fact that this far north and so late in the year the sun only shone a few hours a day, it was a welcome few hours for the man, a time to go out of his tent and feed the reindeer. As he did so, he watched the creeping advance of what appeared to be clouds on the horizon. Even as he looked, the clouds' approach seemed to be accelerating.

"What are you looking at?" a voice asked. The man glanced over to see another looking back at him. Both were dark-featured and wore warm woollen clothes in hues of blue and scarlet. Their language was not of the Europeans to the south, and it was clear the pair were brothers.

"The sky," the first answered, going back to feeding his reindeer. "A storm is coming, a big one."

The second shrugged. "It's winter; there will always be storms."

"Not like this. Can't you see it?" He nodded again to the horizon, over the frozen tundra. "It's moving too fast; I don't like it. I think we should leave."

"Leave? We have only just settled here; we should stay at least a month, brother."

The man hesitated, and then shook his head. "I will not stay. It troubles me too much. You have no wife, no children as I do; I fear for their safety."

"Where will you go?"

"South. To Arendelle."

His brother laughed, but it was a laugh without humor. "I'd rather risk the storm."

"There are good people in all places, brother. Perhaps we can seek shelter there."

"Then go, if you will. But do not be surprised if we are not here when you return."

And that was what the man did. The other herders watched on as he and his family tore down their tent, packed their belongings onto the back of their sled and two of their reindeer, and started south.

"Where are we going, Papa?" the man's young daughter asked him, as his wife held their infant son close.

"Somewhere we will be safe."

* * *

"It's here, it's here, I can't believe it!"

The dressing room doors burst open, and Elsa jumped about three feet in the air, having just finished braiding her hair. "Anna!"

"Oh, this is so _amazing,_ I gotta try it on!" Her sister was talking a mile a minute, with Gerda in tow, carrying something that was wrapped in soft cream linen.

"Anna, calm down and tell me _what_ is here and _why,"_ Elsa commanded in a slower voice.

"My wedding dress, of course!" Anna exclaimed, breathless. "I can't believe it; I was worried it wouldn't get here in time!"

Elsa smiled, happy to see her sister so excited. Gerda set the dress down on a table and unfolded the linen. Anna's bubbly speech faded off as she stared at the soft, white silk. "Wow," she said softly.

"Go ahead; try it on," Elsa encouraged gently.

Anna picked up the dress by the waist and bit her lip. "Are you sure?" she said hesitantly.

"It's _your _wedding dress," Elsa said with a chuckle.

"Right. I know that. Yeah." She disappeared behind the changing screen, and then after a few moments called out, "Gerda, I need help with the back."

"Oh, of course, m'Lady," Gerda said with a smile, hurrying over. Elsa waited patiently as the matronly maid went behind the screen and helped Anna, before the younger sister said nervously, "O-Okay… I'm ready."

She walked out from behind the screen, and Elsa pressed a hand to her mouth, stunned. Her little sister had never looked so… so _grown up._ The dress was beautiful, with a full skirt and a laced bodice, a true Victorian collar and intricate stitching in flower motifs all around the edges of the skirt and on the two halves of the bodice. A large sheer veil completed the look. "Oh, Anna…" Elsa said, voice soft.

"Do you think it looks alright?" Anna said, biting her lip in worry.

"Alright? You look…" She couldn't even find the word, instead choosing to fill it by walking forward and hugging her sister. Anna grinned and hugged her back. "Lovely," Elsa said finally, drawing away. "You look absolutely lovely, Anna."

Gerda sniffed. "Your sister is right," she said, wiping her eyes. "Oh, I always wondered when this day would come… both of you, getting married…" She sniffled again and dropped her gaze, embarrassed by her sudden tears. "I'm sorry, m'Ladies."

"No, no; don't be," Anna gushed. "Thank you so much."

"I'll leave you two together," the housekeeper said, eyes still glimmering with tears. She curtsied and left, leaving the door open behind her.

"Kristoff is going to love it," Elsa promised.

Anna's happy expression turned to concern. "You think so? I really want him to…"

"I _know_ so," Elsa assured her. "You look beautiful, Anna."

"You do," a voice said from the doorway, and both looked over to see Hans standing there, smiling a little. "Quite lovely."

"Came to see what you missed out on?" Anna said, but she was smiling, too.

"Not intentionally, but fate must have had its hand in things. May I come in?"

"Sure," Anna replied cheerfully. Elsa raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it. Clearly something had been done to amend the rift between the two of them, and while it baffled her, she wasn't about to ruin the apparent truce. Hans walked into the room and stood next to the couch as Anna turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror, next to the wardrobe. "I can't believe it fits so well; I was sure they'd have to hem it or something. That's really lucky, isn't it?"

"Either that, or you just haven't grown in the six months since you sent them your measurements," Elsa pointed out wryly.

"Yeah, but still…" She sighed wistfully. "I guess I should change back, huh? Knowing me, I'll probably trip into some sort of mess if I keep it on too long."

"You can use my room," Elsa said, retrieving her normal clothes from behind the screen.

"Thanks." She took the dress in hand and quickly hurried over to Elsa's changing room, closing the door behind her.

Hans and Elsa were left in silence. The Queen sat down on the couch. After a moment, the prince added, "That was sincere, by the way; she truly did look beautiful."

"Jealous?" Elsa commented, voice only a little barbed.

"Well, I certainly don't pity Mr. Bjorgman, if that's what you mean."

Elsa smiled. "They're going to be very happy together."

A moment passed, and then Hans cleared his throat. "And you?"

"And I, what?"

"Your dress. Don't you have one?"

Elsa shook her head. "There wouldn't be time to have it sent; I'm making my own."

"Making it?" he questioned. She gestured with her hand, and a little puff of snowflakes appeared. "Ah. Clever."

"Well, I figure it'd be better to make a dress than to buy one I'll never use," she explained.

Hans glanced around the room and then looked at her pointedly. Elsa shook her head. "I checked the room before I came in; there are no spies in here. I assumed you didn't see anyone on your way in?"

"No one."

"Then we're fine."

Hans nodded towards the door. "So your little sister is getting married. Isn't the Queen usually the first to wed?"

"Stop that; you'll make me feel like an old maid," Elsa chuckled, though she didn't look too offended. "You and my council; you should have heard some of their attempts to persuade me to marry one duke or another. At least this false engagement gets them to leave me alone for a while."

"So you don't want to get married someday?" Hans said, surprised.

"Whether I 'want' it or not has very little to do with the matter; what I really need is a few years to get used to being a queen before I add having a husband into the mix. I assume that's about how long I can hold off my council before they set up an arranged marriage."

"You know, most women wouldn't say that with such…" He tried to find a word.

"Nonchalance?"

"Willingness. Weren't you the one who said 'you can't marry a man you just met'?"

"Fair point," she conceded. "But it was different with Anna than it is with me."

"Why?"

"Because she was looking for love, and I'm not." She shrugged. "I've known since I was a girl that I wouldn't have much of a choice in my husband and that I'd be expected to have children, so that there would be a direct heir to the throne. Anna has always taken her freedom in that matter for granted. I didn't want her wasting that sort of a gift." She looked over at the door to the opposite room, mood subdued. "Sooner or later my council will really start pressuring me to find a suitor. I'll make sure to choose someone with whom I can be friends, and if I'm lucky, I may grow to care for him… but searching for 'true love' is a luxury neither I nor Arendelle can afford." She smiled slightly, and maybe he was imagining it, but the smile seemed rather sad. "The really ironic thing is, this fake engagement is exactly the sort of marriage my council will want: a political arrangement with a younger-born prince that will help benefit international relations."

"…Your sister would probably say something here about 'not giving up on love,'" Hans commented. "Although I can't claim to know much about that."

"Nor I," she agreed. "I'm very happy for Anna, and I'm sure she and Kristoff will make a wonderful pair, but for me... all I'm hoping for is a kind man who'll make a good king. That's what I owe to my people."

"Duty before pleasure," Hans surmised. "The motto of a monarch." Elsa smiled ruefully and nodded.

They both looked over as the door opened again, and Anna walked out, holding her wedding dress in hand. "Alright; I should probably fold this up again," she said wistfully, carrying it over to the white linens and carefully placing the dress inside. "Do you really think Kristoff will like it?"

"Like what?" a fourth voice asked, and the three of them looked back to find none other than Kristoff himself, leaning against the doorframe with an expression of interest.

"Anna's wedding dress arrived," Elsa explained.

"Really? Can I see it?"

"Not on your life," the Queen said sternly. "A groom _never_ sees his bride's dress before the wedding. It's tradition."

"Ah, tradition shmadition," Kristoff said, walking into the room. Then, his eyes landed on Hans, and narrowed. "What's _he_ doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Hans said, turning to face him.

"I'm here to talk to the queen," Kristoff said bluntly.

"Well isn't that ironic; I, too, am here to talk to the queen."

"Yeah? Well _I'm_ not a nut job."

"Well this 'nut job' arrived prior to you, hence-"

"Alright, you two, enough," Elsa said sharply. "You'll both get your t-" She stopped suddenly, looking towards the window.

"What is it?" Anna asked, worried.

Elsa's brow was creased in a confused frown. "There's a storm coming in from the far north. It's strange; I hadn't felt anything until now… it's like it just appeared out of nowhere." She walked to the window, where the sky was still blue, but her expression was dark. "It's not here yet, but it's definitely a blizzard. A big one, too. Considering its speed, it should be here right around the time of the wedding, maybe sooner."

"Can you send it away?" Kristoff asked.

"Of course. Just give me a moment." She closed her eyes and raised her hands, palms facing the window and just a few inches from the glass. Manipulating snowy weather was a talent that had come with greater control over her powers, and she'd occasionally banished bad snowstorms in the past, so Kristoff and Anna knew it wouldn't be a problem. As they turned back to their previous tasks, Hans watched, intrigued.

It was because of this that he alone noticed as Elsa's hands began to shake, and her frown deepened. Her mouth tightened as the shaking grew worse, and her face turned even paler than normal. "Your Majesty?" Hans said, a little concerned. Elsa didn't hear him. He was about to ask again, when suddenly the Queen let out a low gasp, and then her whole body went limp.

"Queen Elsa!" He managed to catch her just before she toppled over completely. Kristoff and Anna looked over, startled, and both of their faces changed to expressions of worry. Hans lifted the unconscious Elsa and carried her over to the couch as Anna began to panic, Kristoff frowning with concern beside her.

Their fears were short-lived, however; Elsa opened her eyes a few moments later. "W-what happened?" she said, looking around.

"You passed out!" Anna exclaimed fretfully.

"Passed out?" She sat up shakily. "That's right… the storm." She looked back to the window, baffled. "I tried to send it away, but it… it was like it was _fighting_ me."

"How could a storm fight you?" Hans questioned.

"I don't know. It was the strangest thing." She made as if to stand, but her sister quickly pushed her back down.

"Oh no you don't. You stay right here until you feel better again. And don't worry about the storm; I'm sure it'll blow over. Besides, all the visitors are here already; it's not that big of a deal."

"Anna, really, I'm fine." She tried to get up again, but her legs failed her, and she nearly tumbled forward, stumbling just to keep her balance. "…I think."

Anna bit her lip, hard. "That's it. You're going straight to bed."

"What? But I'm-"

"Obviously you're not feeling good! And I don't want you sick for the wedding. Come on; I'll help you to your room

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Anna, I'm not a child; I'm certain I can walk on my own." But even as she tried to, her legs wobbled, and Anna had to support her. "…Perhaps you're right."

"Of course I am. Let's go."

Anna helped Elsa walk weakly out of the room, leaving Kristoff and Hans alone. The former glared at the later, who cleared his throat. "What did you wish to talk to the Queen about?"

"None of your business," Kristoff said shortly, and stormed out of the room. Hans waited until he was sure the man was gone, and then followed out.

* * *

**A/N: Another early update! I wasn't intending on posting this until tomorrow morning. : ) I hope you guys all enjoyed it; please review! God bless you all!**

**Also, to all you Catholics out there: could you please say a prayer for the Archdiocese of Oklahoma? I've heard that there is a black mass (you'll notice I didn't capitalize "mass") being put on today in that area and the people of Oklahoma need all the prayers we can give them.**

**Pax et bonum!**


	18. Chapter 16: After the Pageant

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

_Knock-knock-knock._

Elsa looked up from the book she was reading, startled, and called, "Hello?"

Her bedroom door opened, and a certain auburn-haired prince peeked his head in. "Good evening," he greeted. "May I come in?"

"Well, I don't see how it could hurt," she said wryly, "seeing as Anna, Kristoff and even Olaf have been checking up on me all day." She really did look like an invalid- she was lying upright against the pillows on her bed and draped in a white woolen blanket, which was undoubtedly the work of her sister, reading a novel through her half-moon glasses.

"That sounds like them," Hans agreed, walking inside. He was holding some sort of bundle in his hands, which he set down on her dresser. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." He gave her a doubtful look, and she sighed in frustration, taking off her glasses. "I _mean_ it. The shakiness wore off hours ago, but Anna still won't let me out of bed. She can be very over-protective."

"Well, if she were sick and you were the one taking care of her, I'm sure you'd be much the same," he pointed out.

"But I'm not sick!" she grumbled. "I really do feel fine, but I doubt she'll let me out of bed until tomorrow at the earliest. She did agree to stop checking up on me, though."

"You're _certain_ you're feeling alright?" he questioned.

She gave him a look and got out of bed, gesturing to her perfect ability to stand on her own two feet. "Absolutely positive."

"Then here." He retrieved what appeared to be a few articles of clothing from the bundle and brought them over to her. "Put these on."

"What?" she demanded, accepting what appeared to be a gray woolen hat and a pair of mittens. "Why? Where did you get these?"

"From the spares in the kitchen. We," he said, quickly donning a scarf, "Are going to a play."

She stared. "A play?"

"You said you'd never seen one, right?" he said, glancing over at her.

"Well, yes, but-"

"So why don't you go see one tonight? I heard word in the town that the children are performing their pageant."

Elsa hesitated, looking down at the hat and gloves doubtfully. "…I don't know. I've never… snuck out before."

"Snuck out? It's your castle; this isn't 'sneaking out.'" He saw her face, and amended, "If you really don't want to go, we don't have to."

"No, I want to; it's just…" She bit her lip, and then admitted, "I'm just nervous. I've never been out of the castle before without telling someone, and if they found me, out there, with you, _unchaparoned-"_

"Elsa," Hans interrupted, adjusting his gloves.

"Queen Elsa," she corrected.

"Queen Elsa. It's not as if you're some rebellious teenager sneaking out through your window to dance the night away. You're an adult woman leaving in a perfectly legitimate manner to see a children's pageant, with a man you're supposedly engaged to. This is about as daring as eating sweets before dinner."

She had to chuckle at that. "If it's not 'daring,' as you say, then why do we have to wear disguises? Since clearly these-" She held up the hat and gloves, "-aren't a necessity to me."

"I assumed you didn't want to be recognized and badgered by your adoring subjects." When she still looked hesitant, he said, "Your Majesty, you can either stay cooped up in here and wish you'd come, or we can go see a pageant." He nodded towards the doorway. "The choice is yours."

She bit her lip, and then put on the hat.

* * *

Elsa had never had so much fun in her life.

Alright, well, perhaps that was an overstatement- after all, building her ice castle had been positively euphoric, and spending time with Anna, of course, never failed to lift her spirits. But short of magical adventures and the like, she hadn't had a more enjoyable time in years.

After sneaking out the back door of the kitchen and past the guards (who really needed a refresher tutorial on guarding if they couldn't even catch a well-known would-be convict and a well-known ice-casting queen), Elsa had conveniently frozen a walkway across the fjords, allowing the two to make their way to the docks. They'd then followed the people to the town square and had blended in with the crowds, taking a pair of seats near the aisle to ensure a good view.

Elsa had loved watching the play, delighted to see the well-known story brought to life. When the pageant was finished, they walked around for a bit, talking and laughing. With the gloves, hat, heavy dress and cloak, no one thought to recognize her as the chill-impervious Ice Queen. It was nice, Elsa decided, to be able to go about as a peasant, if only for a night. It was as if all the burdens of ruling a kingdom had suddenly disappeared.

"-The sheep were adorable," she said with a grin. "And the one who said 'moo' instead of 'baa'-"

"Their director looked ready to have an aneurism," Hans agreed, laughing.

As they passed by a stand, still talking, the vender called out, "Hot cider! Get your hot apple cider!"

"Oh!" Elsa turned impulsively. "Apple cider? How much is it?"

"Just two øre, miss; that's all."

She took her glove off and reached into the inner pocket of her cloak, and only remembered that she hadn't brought any money when her hand scratched the bottom of the pocket. "Oh, I'm afraid I'll have to pass," she said apologetically. "I must have forgotten my money at the-" she caught herself, "-at home."

"Don't worry about it; it's on me," Hans said, handing over the four copper coins.

"Really, you don't have to-"

"I said not to worry about it," he said with a slight smile, handing her a steaming cup of piping hot apple cider. As they continued to walk, he commented, "I'll admit, I'm surprised someone of your… particular disposition… would favor a drink like apple cider."

"Oh, I've always loved it, ever since I was a little girl," she said happily, and then took a sip. "Mm…"

"Slow down, or you'll give yourself a brain melt."

She gave him a dubious look. _"'Brain melt?'"_

"Well, I assume you can't get brain freezes."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and took another sip. "I ought to do this more often."

"Drink apple cider?"

"Explore the town," she amended. "Anna comes here so often that these people are practically family to her; I hardly know them at all. I'm always so nervous that I won't know the right thing to say or do…"

"Can I ask you something?" Hans inquired. She shrugged her agreement. "You're a very well-mannered person, your people adore you, your council thinks you're the best thing since buttered lefse… yet you don't seem to be very close to anyone except your sister and Sir Bjorgman. Why?"

"I don't know. I suppose I just… don't want to disappoint them. My subjects, I mean," she amended.

"They already know about your ice powers; what is there left to hide? Do you have a fire-breathing dragon locked up in your dungeons or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm just, well…" She shrugged. "I'm different that most people."

"You don't say," he deadpanned.

She shook her head. "It's not even just my powers. I don't act like other people, I don't think like other people… I'm not, well, _relatable."_

"What do you mean?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

Elsa bit her lip for a second, and then admitted, "I've always been a fast learner; I mastered almost every skill that was ever required of me: diplomacy, politics, philosophy- and now I've mastered _this."_ With a swift removal of her glove and a snap of her fingers, a snowflake burst to life in the air, and then disappeared. "But I'm not very good at understanding _people. _And yes, I know part of that comes from keeping them at an arm's length for the better part of my life, but that doesn't help." She shrugged slightly, pulling her glove back on. "I suppose I'm afraid that if I let them get to know me well enough, they'll see that and stop thinking so highly of me."

"It seems to me that you feel more often like an observer than a participator; on the outside versus on the inside, as it were," Hans assessed. "Am I reading that right?"

"Yes, exactly. Most people don't consider a discussion on political philosophy their idea of a good time," she said dryly. "But I don't mind it so much, really. Anna is happy with Kristoff, and I… well, I'm happy on my own. But sometimes…"

"…Sometimes it would be nice, to be understood," he finished.

She glanced up at him, surprised at his astute perception, and then smiled and nodded. As they continued to walk, she said, "So you subscribe to Plato's philosophy of government?"

"Well, as I said, it was incomplete, but rather brilliant. Don't you?"

"In part, but his idea of a system run absolutely by two elected wise men rests on the twin premises that the wisdom of said men is so profound that their mistakes are negligible, as well as that the people they govern won't rebel against their rule."

Hans chuckled. "Do you fear a rebellion, Queen Elsa?"

"No; my people seem relatively happy with their monarch."

"Then you do not trust your own wisdom?"

"Not impeccably, no. I'm not infallible; that's why I have a council. Some of them are lords and ladies by birth, others are representatives that the people elect themselves." She quirked an eyebrow. "Why do you ask? I was under the impression that the Southern Isles had a similar system of governance."

He rolled his eyes. "In theory, yes. But my brothers and I- well, _formerly_ I- they make up Agnar's council. They essentially only serve to affirm his decisions for him."

"Then the people have no say in their own government?" she said, surprised.

"No; that's all handled by my brothers. It makes for a rather one-sided system, don't you think?"

"I don't know if I should say," she said with faux wariness.

Hans chuckled slightly at that. "Don't worry; I'm not about to tattle to my brother. And you? You said you favored Aristotle."

"I do. His idea of a society governed by the will of the people was certainly beyond its time."

"I hear the Colonies Across the Sea have taken up something similar," Hans commented. "It's interesting that a monarch should theoretically favor a _politeia_ system."

"I play with the hand I've been dealt," she answered simply. "I was born to be a queen, and so I've decided to be a just one who takes the advice of her subjects. In any case, I believe my people have a right to their say in their government."

"Perhaps a combination of the two theories may serve the best," Hans mused. "I think it could work rather well. A pair of wise leaders who defer–"

"-to an elected council-"

"-for the sake of their people!" they finished together. Elsa smiled triumphantly and exclaimed, "Exactly."

The two looked at each other and grinned, blue meeting green. Elsa had never seen him look so light-hearted, with enthusiasm in his eyes and that easy-going smile that made her cheeks flush and stomach flutter like a thousand mad butterflies-

_Wait, what?_

The chiming of the town's clock tower broke the moment, and Elsa started. "Oh goodness, it's midnight! We should be getting back."

"Right, of course. Your sister will get worried."

Elsa sighed. "Sometimes I think I'm the _only_ thing she worries about. She's so carefree- perhaps not always for the better. In any case, we'd better go." She could hear herself talking, but her words felt almost automatic. They walked back to the castle, whereupon their conversation ended as they concentrated on sneaking back in without getting caught. When they reached the top of the stairs to the floor with the royal chambers, Hans bade Elsa a goodnight and then continued on his way to the next floor up, where the guest rooms were situated.

Elsa walked back to her room almost in a daze and slipped inside, locking the door behind her. She leaned against the white-painted wood, taking off the hat and gloves and wringing her hands, distressed. What was the matter with her? How could she so casually be- be _having fun_ with the man? And that feeling she'd had in the village… happy and sort of dizzied and excited…

Elsa wasn't stupid. Inexperienced in the ways of emotions and romance, yes. More capable of understanding mathematics and politics than her own heart, yes. But certainly not stupid. She knew that that sort of feeling was what every romance novelist out there, not to mention _her own sister,_ described as developing an attraction. Or, as Anna would put it… falling in love.

"What is the _matter_ with you, Elsa?" she groaned. "He tried to kill you. He broke Anna's heart!"

The snow was starting to swirl around her, and she began to panic. "No no no…" Elsa took a deep breath. "Think about love. Love will thaw…"

_Love? _a little voice whispered in her head. _What would you know about love? Isn't love what got you into this mess in the first place?_

The snow was swirling faster now. Elsa closed her eyes tight. "Get it together, Elsa. Think about Anna."

_Anna?_ the voice hissed demandingly. _You mean Anna, your sister to whom you owe everything, your sister whom you're betraying? Maybe you do belong with _him._ Look at yourself! You're both traitors, after all! Both monsters!_ She flinched visibly as the winds roared and reached their peak. _Monster!_ they screamed at her. _Monster!_

"No," she mumbled, trying to find her voice. "I'm not- I don't want-" Something jabbed through her mind, sharp and sheer. "I'm not the traitor. He is. He's the one who betrayed Anna! He's to blame for this, not me! He's the criminal, the murderer! _He's the_ _monster, not me!"_

She slammed her foot into the ground, and the winds shot out in all directions, changing to snow and then to ice. Fast as lightning, the ice fractured up the walls and curled down like dark, blue-black claws, jagged and menacing. Elsa stared, stunned. Even when she'd been terrified and running for her life, she'd never created anything so… _ugly._

Elsa pulled her hands in close, wringing them with nervousness. Well, at least the snow had stopped. Taking several slow, deep breaths, she walked over to her window, cracked the ice that had sealed around it, and opened the shutters. After peeking her head outside to make sure no one was watching, she turned back to the icicles in the room and tried to concentrate on her bubbly little sister, on Anna's smile and nothing else. Slowly, much more slowly than she wanted, the ice began to retreat, pulling away into snowflakes and creating a small, hovering sphere of snow in the center of her room. Elsa sent the snow out into the courtyard, and then closed her window with a sigh.

"Conceal it, don't feel it," she instructed herself, taking a slow breath. "This isn't real. Don't fall for your own illusion."

Because that was what this had to be: an illusion. There was no chance that the man who had tried to kill her had changed so completely. There was no way that the monster who had betrayed her sister, fooled her country and threatened her life- that man with the manic gleam in his eye, the sword in his hand- could possibly have even a spark of good inside him. Good people didn't commit murder. They just _didn't._

With this set firmly in her mind, Elsa banished all thoughts of hot cider and pageants and Plato from her mind once and for all, and climbed into bed without bothering to change. This was strictly business, nothing more.

She hoped.

* * *

**A/N: Wasn't intending to post this until tomorrow but I changed my mind. Tried to write a much more Helsa-y chapter this time. Haha, I love writing them as these political philosophy geeks. Nerd love is so cute!**

**Did you like it? Hate it? All feedback is appreciated! Pax et bonum, friends!**


	19. Chapter 17: In Which the Tension Grows

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: First off, my sincerest apologies for not messaging some of you lovely reviewers back; randomly the option to respond to the reviews disappeared from the page, so here's me thank you all now! And now, to the story!**

* * *

_The street was covered with dirty, slushy snow, sprayed every which way by the crossing farm-carts. The older boys had made a point of hitching up their sledges to the back of these carts and riding them to any place in or around the town. Some did it for fun; others, like the dark-haired young man of about fourteen on the street-corner, took the free rides to their jobs, working for one shopkeeper or another, or doing odd-work for the wealthy families._

_ This boy was poorer than the rest, and it showed: his clothes were patched, his shoe had a hole in the toe, and he had no gloves at all. But there was something about his eyes- gray and sharp- that betrayed a cleverness and intelligence about him. He was watching the carts pass by, waiting for his chance to jump in and hitch up his sled. His eyes caught sight of something and narrowed in confusion. A sleigh of what appeared to be white wood, its rider wrapped in white fur with the face shrouded in shadows, was circling the town square. "What about that one?" one of the other boys commented, having noticed the sleigh, as well._

_ The gray-eyed boy shook his head. "I don't recognize that one," he said with a strange wariness in his tone- even he didn't half understand it. "Leave it alone."_

_ "Ah, what would you know, Willum?" a different boy jeered. "Your father can't even read!"_

_ "I'm telling you, I don't trust it!" the gray-eyed boy insisted._

_ "You're just afraid!" a little voice piped up, and the three older boys turned. A child with copper-colored curls looked up at them. Willum felt his discomfort worsen; there was something about the way the boy was sneering at them that seemed so incongruent with his eight-year-old features. He had always been a good child, polite and kindly, but as of late something seemed quite wrong with him, and Willum could not for the life of him understand how such a change had come to take place._

_ "It's only little Kai," one of the others said dismissively, turning away. "Go home, Kai; this isn't a game for children."_

_ That seemed to anger the boy, and without any further ado, he ran out into the street, his little toboggan sled trailing behind. "Kai! Get back here!" Willum shouted._

_ "I'm not scared! I'll show you!"_

_ "Kai, you'll be trampled!"_

_The boy wasn't listening. As the sleigh rode past, Kai reached forward and latched his toboggan onto the back of the white sleigh. He jumped on as it took off through the slush and snow, down another road, and out of sight. Willum stared, stunned. But surely, Kai would return- he'd know to unhitch his sled at the town gates. Surely._

_ Hours went by. Night came. The family went looking; people began asking questions. Willum and the others told them everything they'd seen, but no one found any sign of the boy. Eventually, people agreed he must have drowned in the nearby river, and a funeral was held to him. Willum went, in his best Sunday clothes- which were really like everyone else's normal clothes, but it was the best he could do. Standing quietly in a corner, embarrassed for his shabby appearance, he alone noticed how, at the back of the church, stood a little girl with curly dark hair, tears pouring silently down her cheeks._

His eyes opened, but his face was creased into a frown. Willum sat up with a distinct sense of uneasiness and looked around. The room was quiet and familiar: his bed and warm gray quilt, his overstuffed bookshelf, the unlit lamp on his desk and the crucifix on the wall. All appeared normal. But all did not _feel_ normal.

The bishop put on his slippers and made his way down to the kitchens. When he entered, he was surprised to find that the main stove was already burning, as were a few of the candles in the wall sconces. Willum was confused until the door to the pantry opened, and Gerda came out, looking surprise.

"I thought I heard noises," she asserted. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Ah, well, I came in search of a cup of tea. Yourself?"

"Someone has to keep the stove heated; the girl who usually works nights is sick."

"I see. Is Kai awake?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Not for another hour yet. Were you looking for him?"

"Maybe," Willum answered vaguely, frowning slightly.

The matronly housekeeper noted this and said, "Why don't you sit down, and I'll put the kettle on." He did so, and she put an old metal teapot on the stove before taking a seat at the table across from him. "What seems to be the trouble?" she inquired in a motherly way.

He shook his head. "I don't know… it's probably nothing." She tilted her head, and he said, "…I had an odd dream… the day Kai went missing."

Gerda's face had grown somber. "I don't know why," Willum continued. "It's made me uneasy… but I'm sure I'm only imagining it."

She nodded. "Yes. That must be it."

He hesitated. "…It's odd, isn't it, how things turned out?"

She looked up. Their eyes met, brown and grey. "…She's still out there, isn't she?" Gerda said finally, voice little more than a quivering whisper.

"It's possible. Very possible. The powers of evil are strong." His expression was concerned, yet firm. "But the powers of good are stronger; you know that better than anyone."

"Do I? Sometimes I'm not so sure."

The kettle had started to whistle. Gerda got up and walked over to it. She poured two mugs of tea, and then stopped. "…Kai thinks we should tell her," she said finally. "He always has."

"And what do you think?"

"I swore an oath."

"So did I."

"Then you know why we have to keep it!" she said, turning to look at him. "She can never know the truth; you know that!"

"And what if we've underestimated her?" Willum demanded, getting to his feet. "Elsa has proven herself a remarkable queen, wise beyond her years. Doesn't she have the right to know why she's different?"

"The king and queen made the decision; don't you think they knew better than anyone what was best for their daughter?"

"They could have been wrong."

"We promised, Willum!"

Her voice was so ardent that he relented with a sigh. "…I know," he agreed, sitting back down. "But I can't help but feel as if we've kept this secret too long as it is."

Gerda pursed her lips, still looking troubled, and then brought over the mug of tea. She set it down in front of him. "This is silly," she said with a sigh. "That was more than twenty years ago; we're all in a muddle over nothing. One can never think clearly at night, anyway; it's no time to make hasty decisions."

"…Perhaps you're right," he conceded tiredly. "Demons are always more frightening in the dark; old memories, too." He stood. "I think I'll take my tea with me, if that's alright."

"Of course. You look tired; you should go back to bed."

He shook his head. "Something tells me sleep isn't much of an option. Besides, the sun will be up in a few hours; I'll just get an early start on the Sunday sermon."

"Alright then." As he stood and started for the door, mug in hand, she said suddenly, "Willum."

He glanced over his shoulder. There was uncertainty in her eyes, and she looked as if she were about to ask a question. Then, she shook her head. "Never mind; it's nothing."

The bishop wanted to press the matter, to ask what she had wanted to say, but in the end decided against it. With a nod, he left, leaving Gerda to stand in the kitchen alone with a quickly cooling cup of tea.

* * *

Day had broken over Arendelle, and already at mid-morning the castle was bustling with activity. Elsa's sleep had been fitful and broken, and as a result she felt more exhausted than ever. She hadn't bothered to pin up her braid, instead letting it fall loose down her back, and the idea of going to the effort of making up her face was positively absurd. She finished a piece of toast as she walked through the halls, her mind a hundred different places and nowhere all at once.

"Elsa!"

The tired queen turned, startled, and saw her sister running up to her. She smiled despite herself. "Anna. What is it? I thought you'd be with Kristoff right now."

Her sister glanced away, fiddling with her hands. "No, he's busy right now…" She brushed this off and looked up at Elsa again. "So anyway, I was wondering, how're you doing?"

"Me? Oh, fine…" She trailed off as a servant hurried up to her.

"Your Majesty, a trade ship from Dun Broch scheduled to arrive two days ago still hasn't docked," the manservant said, looking concerned. "And on that note, neither has that second ship from Corona."

"I've been keeping the sea passages open for guests," Elsa said, frowning. "They should have been able to get through…"

"A small messenger vessel did manage to get through by tacking along the cost, bearing word that Corona apologizes, but they won't be able to send representatives to the wedding for fear of sea troubles."

"Understandable," Elsa sighed. "Well, there's nothing for it, then. Tell me if the ships do arrive; thank you."

"Yes, my Queen," the servant said, giving a quick bow and then hurrying away.

Anna frowned, worried. "That's strange that the ships couldn't get through."

"I've kept the channels from freezing over, but perhaps there were other troubles. Hopefully the ships have only been waylaid." She sighed again and then shook her head, turning back to Anna. "Was there something you needed?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if I could help you with anything. You've seemed sort of stressed lately."

Elsa tried to smile. It turned out more like a grimace. "I am. But it's alright; I can handle it."

"You sure? I can totally help with whatever you need."

"I'm quite alright." She loved her sister, but her thoughts felt so tangled and irritated that her sister's perpetually bubbly attitude was beginning to get on her nerves.

"Seriously, Elsa, I-"

"Anna," the queen said sharply, cutting her off. "I'd just really rather be alone right now, alright?"

Anna stopped, stared. After a moment, she found her voice. "O-okay. Yeah. Sorry." She stepped away, and Elsa saw the way she tried to valiantly hide the hurt in her eyes. "I'll just… see you later then." She walked away, leaving the Queen to stand there alone.

Elsa rubbed her temples, feeling as if she were developing a migraine. She felt bad about hurting Anna's feelings, but at the same time relieved. While the queen didn't necessarily want to be alone, she also didn't think she could handle company, not right then. Her whole world had been upended and she couldn't even begin to sort out her own thoughts, let alone someone else's.

She went the library and sat down at her desk, putting on her reading glasses with a yawn. Work. Work would bury her and help her forget the insanity life had become. She was halfway through drafting her rewrite of the grain report when she heard a voice. "Heya, Elsa!"

The queen groaned inwardly. Couldn't _anyone_ just leave her be today? "Hello, Olaf," she sighed, turning to look at the snowman who had just walked in the door.

"Watcha doin', huh?"

"Rewriting a very complicated report," she said shortly, hoping Olaf would take the hint and just leave.

"Oh, that's cool." He paused. "So, listen… about Hans…"

This time, she almost let out that groan. Why couldn't people talk about anything else? "What about him?"

"Well… I've noticed you guys are kinda strange around each other."

That got her attention. "What do you mean?"

"Just that sometimes you seem to like him and sometimes you seem to hate him," the snowman said simply. "I just wanna know why."

She sighed. "It's complicated."  
"That's what he said."

"Yes, well, he's right," she replied irritably, reaching for a piece of parchment and starting to scribble down a few notes about the bill.

"So anyway, I thought of a way that you guys could fix that!"

"Oh? And what's that?" she said, distracted.

"Well first, you guys play some games together, and then you talk a lot, and then you give him a warm hug!"

She chuckled bitterly at this. "Not everything can be fixed by warm hugs."

"Why not?" he said, confused.

"Because they can't."

"But I think if you really tried hard-"

"They just can't, Olaf!" she snapped, slamming the fountain pen down on the desk. Ice scattered across the papers in sharp points, and Olaf took a step back, startled. Instantly, the Queen felt awful. "I'm sorry, Olaf, I…"

"No, no, it's fine," he said, voice small. "I guess I just thought… but I must be wrong. Sorry."

He sounded so much like Anna that it only made the queen feel worse, but before she could apologize, Olaf quickly walked away, still looking hurt.

Elsa crossed her arms on the ice-covered desk and laid her head down on them with an _"Ugh,"_ feeling absolutely horrible. "What is the matter with me?" she mumbled to herself. "First Anna, now Olaf…" A horrible thought occurred to her. "Am I shutting people out again?"

The answer to that was a big, obvious _yes._ But what else could she do? Olaf would hardly understand if she tried to explain what was bothering her, and Anna… she paled at the very thought. Opening up to Anna about this would be akin to stabbing her own sister in the back. Anna _could not_ know. _Ever._

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, for the last time Elsa had sworn something like that to herself, she'd ended up shutting her sister out for the better part of two decades. _But this won't last that long,_ she reasoned. _You just have to make it until the end of this month, to the wedding. Then everything will finally go back to normal._

_ Except for imminent war and destruction, of course._

She groaned. This was just fantastic. She needed to stop thinking about all of this right now, or she'd drive herself nuts. With a steeled resolve, Elsa sat up straight again and went back to writing the report, losing herself among the technical law language and redundancy.

_Just until the wedding._

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it! Just a short chapter today, folks. : ) I would also like to apologize to my very good friend EvelynMcKay; you see, she drew a wonderful picture of the library scene in chapter 12, which I have forgotten to link in until now. You can find it by searching "Evelynmckay" in deviantart; scroll down, click "see more" once, and then scroll down a little more.**

**Pax et bonum, everyone!**


	20. Chapter 18: Beware Thy Frozen Heart

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

By the time Sunday morning rolled around again, Elsa had successfully relearned her old habits on how to avoid people in just about any part of the castle. Unfortunately, now that the gates were open and Sunday services were no longer private, she was forced to meet with her Anna and Kristoff for church, along with the rest of the town's populace.

It was Gaudete Sunday,* so the whole chapel had been done up in rose, decorated with large pink banners bearing the Arendelle crocus. As the Queen took her place with her sister and Kristoff, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that in the pew directly across the aisle from them sat none other than the very prince from whom all her new troubles had stemmed. He had glanced at her, too. Both quickly looked away, which made the moment even more uncomfortable, since each knew they'd been seen by the other but neither wanted to openly look. Instead, Elsa busied herself with undoing the silver clasp of her black leather hymnal and flipping to the correct page, deliberately taking more time than necessary to have an excuse to not look up.

The congregation rose as the Mass started. So preoccupied was she with _not_ looking to her left that the movement startled her- especially considering the particular hymn that had been chosen to begin the services. As the singing began, Elsa blinked, surprised, and then looked back down to her hymnal. The page number she was on read quite clearly on the top, _Deilig er Jorden._

Her cheeks flushed red, and she glanced around sharply, wondering if anyone else was questioning the irony of the situation. Then, she realized how foolish this was, since only she and Hans had been in the library that evening. Besides, this was a Christmas carol, and after all, it was Christmastide. It was only a coincidence.

Even so, she couldn't seem to make the blush on her cheeks go away.

Elsa took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on singing along with everyone else, before she realized that frost was slowly creeping out from under her hands and coating the pages in thin, swirling designs. She surreptitiously glanced over at Anna to see if her sister had noticed and then hastily brushed the frost off. _Calm yourself. Control yourself._

The hour-long service seemed to last an eternity, and as soon as it was over, Elsa quickly fled the church to seek refuge in her room. Quickly closing and locking the door, she let out a sigh of relief, grateful to be out of the public eye. She set the hymnal down on her desk and undid her curled bun, letting the braid fall over her shoulder as she picked up the novel she'd been reading _that_ evening. Despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the pages of the old book, her mind simply could not seem to concentrate. After reading the same line thrice without taking in a syllable, she sighed and closed the novel.

This was two days in a row hiding away and closing herself off from the world. She knew now for certain that she was shutting people out, but what other choice did she have? She couldn't talk to Anna about this, and besides, she and Kristoff had enough to deal with, what with the wedding and all, and Hans… the very _idea_ of speaking to Hans about how she _maybe-possibly could be attracted to him_ was so absurd it was laughable.

She glanced outside her triangular window into the courtyard below, and her heart jumped a little in surprise when she saw that the very man was just below her, walking and talking with some of the parishioners. He seemed to be conversing to one of the servants when, from the opposite direction, the Southern king came up to speak with him. Elsa watched, concerned, although she couldn't hear what was being said.

Down on the ground, Hans bade farewell to the servant and turned to the king. "I imagine you're dissatisfied about something," he said dryly.

Agnar's expression spoke volumes. "You imagine correctly," he said lowly, as the rest of the crowds passed them by. "Why haven't you been speaking with the Queen for the past two days?"

"Well, they say personal space is valuable in any relationship," Hans said, turning to walk with the rest towards the castle.

His brother grabbed him by the shoulder. "Do not trifle with me, Hans," he spat. "Either you and Queen Elsa start getting a lot friendlier, or I start-"

"Making things difficult?" Hans guessed, rolling his eyes.

In a flash, Hans felt the edge of a knife press against his gut. Invisible to any passersby, the blade dug painfully through his suit coat and into his abdomen. "Don't forget that I can still get rid you any time I please," Agnar hissed. "I'm sure any of the others would be more than willing to take your place and woo the queen. Am I clear, Hans?"

The younger swallowed. "Crystal."

"Then here is what I want you to do: spend some time with her. _Alone._ Take her out for a romantic ride in the woods or some sort, I don't care. But when you come back, she'd better be hanging off your every word. Are we agreed?"

"We are."

The knife's pressure vanished, and Agnar smiled in an almost amiable manner. "Glad to hear it." He walked away, leaving the youngest prince to stand there alone.

Elsa was irritated but not surprised when ten minutes later, a knock sounded at her door. "Queen Elsa? Are you in there?"

She sighed and stood up, walking over to unlock the door and open it. "Well? What did the king say?"

"We have to go on a private outing," Hans informed her. "Outside of the town, I mean. Non-negotiable."

"What? No. Absolutely out of the question," Elsa replied, turning back to her work.

"I'm sorry, I'll just go back and tell Agnar you'd prefer planning your own funeral," Hans said sarcastically. "Look, he was very clear: we had to be alone together, without other people."

"But _why?"_ she snapped.

"Because we're supposed to be in love," he said, frustrated. "And that's what people who are in love do, they spend time together."

"We are _not_ in love," she spat.

"Well we have to make my brother think that we are. Following his orders is the wisest option."

"I don't consider walking out into the woods alone with the man who tried to behead me very wise at all," she retorted sharply.

That stung. Somewhere along the line, an unspoken agreement had arisen between them that neither would mention what had happened on the fjord in anything but a passing remark; this was practically a personal attack. Hans took a step back, stunned, and then his eyes narrowed. "Fine," he said curtly. "Do whatever you like." He headed for the door. "I'll be down at the stables. Whether you come is your choice- but remember the alternative if you don't." He left.

* * *

In the end, Elsa's sense of self-preservation won out over her pride, and she grudgingly went down to the stables. Hans had already readied his horse and was petting the beast's nose when she entered, Elsa having changed from her Sunday best into a more suitable dress for outdoor activity, as well as her pair of black riding boots and a satchel. They didn't talk at all as they led their respective fjord horses out into the courtyard. The trip through the town was similarly silent, each speaking only to indicate where they were going.

Now here they were, in the middle of the forest. They had been riding at least ten minutes in the snowy woods around the castle, heading north, as far as Hans could tell. "I hate the cold," he grumbled, breath freezing into frost in the air. He'd gone much paler due to poor circulation, looking all the more ginger and bespeckled because of it. "Any chance your powers extend to taking the chill away instead of just increasing it?"

Elsa smirked against her will. "Cold is the absence of warmth, Hans; I can't just 'take it away.'"

"And I don't suppose you have the ability to introduce warmth into an area?"

"Hmm," she drawled. "Well, maybe if I had the power to cover the fjords in white sand and warm sunshine, I could. But as it is, no."

"Fantastic," he muttered under his breath. But despite his dislike of being chilled, he had to admit the Arendellian forests did look pretty spectacular in the middle of winter. "So where are we headed?"

"First we're stopping by to see a few old friends," she said, being intentionally vague. "And then we'll head up to the castle."

"The castle- you mean your ice castle?" he said, surprised. "That's quite a trip."

"A full day's worth with our stop," she said, satisfied. "Which is why it works perfectly to get you out of your brother's reach, and both of us out of prying eyes."

"Ahh," he said, suddenly appreciating the genius of the plan. "Clever."

"The way I've timed it, we should be meeting my… friends… by about noon," she calculated. "We'll reach the top of the North Mountain around two, and still be back in time for dinner."

"Oh, Heaven forbid we miss dinner!" Hans said dryly, and Elsa couldn't help but chuckle at that. However, the moment she realized she'd done so, her smile disappeared and her face fell into a slight frown as she glanced away.

After a moment or two, Hans said suddenly, "I want to thank you."

"Thank me?" Elsa said, surprised. "Thank me for what?"

"For taking care of Sitron." He reached forward to pat his horse's neck, and Elsa recalled that it was the same yellowish mount he'd been riding the last time he'd arrived at her ice palace. "I was worried something had happened to him, though of course I had no way to find out."

"Well, he's a perfectly good fjord horse; we weren't about to sell him without need," Elsa pointed out.

"I know. But no one would have blamed you for doing it out of spite." He glanced at her, an earnest look in his eyes. "So… again, thank you."

She looked away, unable to find anything suitable to say except, "Yes, well… you're welcome."

The rest of the ride was as silent as its beginning, and Hans didn't question it. At some point the little hills and valleys of the forest became large canyons with sheer rock-faces. Near-dormant geyser holes let out puffs of steam here and there, and the air seemed warmer. Strangely enough, the snow that had covered most of the country hadn't fallen here, and moss grew in vibrant emerald patches along the ground "Almost there," Elsa called back over her shoulder.

He followed her into a valley filled with what appeared to be spherical boulders, of many sorts and sizes. Elsa pulled her mare to a stop and hopped off, Hans following her lead. "This is it."

"This?" He looked around, frowning in confusion. "Your 'friends' live here?"

"Of course." She walked forward into the group of rocks and called out. "Hello, everyone!"

Hans stared as she continued to speak to no one in particular. "I know you're all hibernating, but I just thought I'd drop by."

"Queen Elsa-" Hans started uncomfortably, wondering if the Queen had briefly lost her sanity. Before he could finish, however, the rocks started to roll towards Elsa, seemingly of their own accord. He jumped as one nearly knocked him over. "Elsa!"

The rocks suddenly all seemed to pop open or unravel somehow, revealing several stony creatures. Hans's mouth dropped open in shock. _What the-_

"It's the Queen!" several of the- the _whatever-they-weres _said excitedly, hurrying over.

"Queen Elsa!"

"Is Kristoff with you?" one of the younger ones demanded eagerly.

Elsa laughed, kneeling down. "No, no. I'm sorry; he's back at the palace. I just thought I'd stop by. Cliff, Bulda, hello!" she exclaimed, kneeling down to greet a pair of the creatures, one male and one female.

"Hello, dear, how are you?" the male, Cliff, asked kindly.

"Yes, tell us what's been happening!" Bulda encouraged her.

Elsa smiled ruefully. "That would take a while."

"Ooh, who's the savory slice of mushroom over _there?"_ said Bulda with a nudge and a wink, nodding in Hans's direction.

Both humans turned red at her implication, and Elsa hurried to say, "A friend. Just a friend."

"And what is this friend's name?" said Cliff with a knowing grin.

The pair hesitated and glanced at each other, reluctant to explain. They were sure the trolls would recognize his name. In the end, Hans steeled his will and walked forward. "I am Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," he said, giving a short bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you all."

When he looked back up, the whole clearing was staring at him. Hans clasped his hands behind his back uncomfortably. "I… take it you've heard of me."

"Ehm, well, you could say that," Bulda said awkwardly. Several of the trolls looked angry, and Hans gulped, imagining just how outmatched he would be in a fight against these stony beings.

"Someone told me the Queen had arrived for a visit?"

The trolls all turned, and Hans and Elsa saw an elderly stone-being walking towards them. Elsa curtsied. "Grand Pabbie."

"Queen Elsa, you needn't curtsy to me," he chuckled. "An old troll is all I am."

"An old troll who saved my sister's life- twice," she reminded him, smiling.

"Hm. Well, the second was done on her own." He looked towards Hans. "Good day, young man."

"Grand Pabbie," one of the smaller trolls whispered. "He's-"

"Hush, young one," Grand Pabbie said gently. "This man is our guest." He smiled at Hans. "Welcome, Prince Hans. We are truly honored."

"It's nearly noon; we'll get you two something to eat," Cliff said to the pair. "We have some lovely fresh moss…"

"Nonsense, Cliff; they can't eat moss!" Bulda said, smacking him on his rocky shoulder.

"It was always good enough for Kristoff."

"Please; he fed it to the pebbles every time."

"Kristoff?" Hans interjected. It was the second time they'd mentioned the name. "As in, Princess Anna's fiancé?"

"The very same," Bulda said fondly. "Our little boy… I've never been prouder. Now, as to lunch…"

After Elsa had managed to assure all of them that she'd brought lunch fit for _human_ consumption in her satchel and dissuade them from any well-meant offers of mushrooms, moss or tree-bark, the trolls finally allowed the pair to sit down on a log and eat their sandwiches. "Ham and cheese," Hans said with surprise as he unwrapped his. "You remembered?"

"I remember everything," she said, in a faux-pompous tone. "What do you think of the trolls?"

"I still can't believe it; I've never heard about trolls except in fairytales," Hans said, looking around the clearing at the colony of rocky beings. He glanced over at her. "But then again, I'd never heard of ice magic before, either."

"Learn something new every day, hm?"

"The best way to live." He suddenly seemed to notice something from the side. "Would you look at that?"

"Look at what?"

He picked a flower from the ground beside the log and looked at it in wonder. It was a wild red rose, petals flushed scarlet and fresh. "Everything grows here," he said, baffled. "It's as if winter can't even touch this place."

"I don't think it can," she remarked. "Every time I've visited, it's always seemed to be the middle of spring, no matter what time of year. Even my magic is weaker here."

"Remarkable." He held out the rose to her to examine.

She smiled and accepted it. "Thank you," she said, searching through the saddlebag and pulling out her hymnal, which she'd packed on accident. She tucked the rose inside to preserve it, and then glanced over at him again.

Her smile disappeared. Both looked away uncomfortably. Finally, after a second or two, Hans sighed. "What is it?"

"What?"

"For the past several days, you've been incredibly cold, if you'll pardon the phrase- not just to me, but to everyone," Hans said frankly. "I think a bit of an explanation is in order."

She saw that he was genuinely concerned, and the iciness inside her seemed to thaw a little. "I know," she admitted tiredly. "I know. I've been shutting people out again. I'm just… a little stressed right now." She didn't tell him _why _she was so stressed, but then it didn't seem necessary.

Hans nodded. "Fair enough. But if you'd just _tell_ us that next time, things might go a little smoother."

She saw how genuine he seemed, and realized she'd been acting ridiculous. Didn't she know better than anyone how cutting oneself off from the rest of the world led to nothing but bitterness and resentment? And for Heaven's sake, it wasn't as if she literally had to lock her door just to keep a simple secret. Why should anything have actually changed from the night of the pageant until then? "Alright," she agreed, and then grudgingly added, "…Thank you."

"Of course," he said, and then nodded to the sandwich in her hands. "So, what kind of sandwich is that?"

Elsa laughed and glanced down. "Lutefisk."

"What?" he said, chortling in disbelief. "You're not serious."

"It's good!" she insisted. "Why does everyone think it isn't?"

"Because it tastes like soap!"

"It does not!"

They continued bickering and laughing good-naturedly for the duration of their meal. Bulda nudged Cliff. "What do you think?"

The male troll grinned knowingly and didn't answer.

Eventually, however, Elsa determined that it was for them time to be going. As they headed for their horses, Grand Pabbie hurried over. "Queen Elsa, please, before you go," he said very seriously. "I need to know, to what ends have you been using your powers as of late?"

Elsa blinked, surprised. "Nothing too extreme; making ice rinks or snow forts for the children, keeping winter storms away… why do you ask?"

The old troll looked worried. "There is something which has been troubling me as of late, but which I cannot put my finger on. There are signs of magic in the air and sky… but nothing more than signs, no true danger of any sort." He shook his head. "Perhaps it is nothing."

Elsa nodded, looking concerned herself. "I'll keep an eye out. Will you do the same?"

"Of course, my dear. Best of luck."

As Elsa mounted her mare again, Grand Pabbie caught the edge of Hans's coat. The prince glanced back, surprised. "To both of you," he said with a smile.

Hans's lips twitched into a smile in return. "Thank you."

* * *

The ride up to the castle took another two hours, so that it was mid-afternoon when they finally arrived at the top of the North Mountain. The sun was shining brightly, glinting off the sides of the ice palace like a diamond in the light. Elsa's spirits rose as it came into view, and she pulled her horse to a halt and quickly got off, hurrying over to the staircase that bridged the gully between the two crevices of the mountain. "Are you coming?" she called back over her shoulder.

Hans chuckled at her enthusiasm and dismounted, walking up to the staircase. As he approached, a pile of snow next to the stairs suddenly shuddered to life, and the prince came to a sudden halt. The giant snow monster that he had fought on his last little trip to the palace clambered to his feet, spikes of ice growing out of his arms. "BAD! MAN!" he roared.

Hans stumbled back and drew his sword. Elsa quickly jumped between the two. "Whoa, whoa, easy there big boy," she said to the snow giant, holding up her hands. "It's alright. He's a- well, he's a-" Marshmallow looked like he was getting impatient, so she finally settled on, "-He's a friend."

The snowman wasn't buying it. "Bad man a friend?" he said dubiously.

"Yes. A friend who would very much like to see the castle. May we go in?"

Although he still looked doubtful, Marshmallow moved aside and let them pass. "Bad man?" Elsa questioned, as they ascended the staircase.

He winced. "I… may have been the one who dismembered him." When she gave him a look, he scowled. "I was being attacked by a giant snow monster! You have to give me that one."

"Alright, alright, granted."

Elsa walked up to the front doors and pushed them open, breathing a deep sigh of contentment. She strode inside, looking incredibly in her element. Hans followed, holding his breath, feeling almost as if he were intruding on something incredibly personal and may at any moment be forced to leave. He looked up to the vaulted ceilings, the crystalline walls, the flawless creation, and felt himself as awed as he had been the first time. "May I take a look around?" he requested of the queen, who was climbing the stairs.

"Be my guest. If you need anything, just call." She disappeared behind an ice wall. Hans followed her up, running a hand along the smooth railings. As Elsa started up another flight of stairs to the third floor, he began to walk along the familiar hallway in the second story.

His feet seemed to know their way, for he found himself in the large, empty room where a year and a half ago he'd found the queen defending herself. It seemed that she'd repaired the chandelier and the doorway to the balcony. The bright sunshine streamed through it and lit the palace up in a stunning array of azure and cerulean. Clearly this was Elsa's favorite room, as she'd embellished it since the last time he'd been in it with beautiful ice-carved designs, imitating both flowers and snowflakes, as if summer and winter had come together in perfect harmony.

"Do you like it?"

He turned and saw the Queen herself standing in the entrance to the room. She'd changed (or perhaps simply created) for herself a simple yet flattering sky-blue dress and sheer cape, with a full skirt, a heart-shaped bodice and that not-quite-Victorian style of collar she seemed to favor. She'd let her pale blonde hair fall down loose about her shoulders, and was holding her tiara in her hands.

"Like it?" he said, turning back to look around the room. "It's incredible." He glanced back, smiling. "As is its creator."

She chuckled slightly at that and walked to his left behind him. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Prince Hans."

"Oh, no," he said, voice only slightly mocking- more teasing than anything. "You're much too clever for that, aren't you, Queen Elsa?"

"Hm. Well, that isn't to say that flattery doesn't occasionally conform to the truth." She waved her hand, and a Hellenistic-style pillar arose from the ice. Another wave created what looked like a small chest on top of it. She opened the chest and placed her crown inside.

"You know, I've never seen you with your hair down before," Hans commented, turning to her.

"I let it down whenever I come up here."

"As well as your crown?" She nodded. "Why?"

Elsa smiled a little and shrugged. "Up here, I'm not a queen."

"I think the magical ice castle begs to differ," he deadpanned.

She shook her head. "A castle and a crown don't make a woman a queen," she said, crossing in front of him. "Her subjects do. And, every now and then, I really enjoy pretending that I don't have subjects. I love them to death, of course, but sometimes it seems I have to solve a lot of disputes they could settle for themselves."

"Getting up here every now and then must be a real relief," he agreed with a chuckle.

"You have no idea." She glanced back, smiling. Their eyes met.

_-"Queen Elsa!"_

_ Her face was full of a deadly determination, fueled by panic turned to fury at these men who'd feared her, accused her, attacked her. Elsa hated them, hated everyone and everything that had ever condemned her as a monstrosity. The blood had rushed to her head, white-hot anger searing in her chest as she willed the ice to take her revenge. She could hear nothing but the pounding in her ears, except-_

_ Except, perhaps, a voice behind her, saying firmly yet gently, "Don't be the monster they fear you are."_

_ She stopped, turned. Prince Hans stood there, a hand outstretched. Their eyes met._

_ For a long moment, she stared. Out of the corner of his eye, Hans saw one of the Westleton guards raise his crossbow. In the split second that followed, he realized that this moment was the answer to all his problems: the Queen would be dead. He would find Anna and take the throne, as he'd always intended. He would be a king in his own right; everything would finally fall into place._

_ But the Queen would be dead._

_ He made his decision instinctively, his conscience overruling his meticulous planning, and to hell with the consequences. __He dove forward and knocked the crossbow upwards, intent on ending the confrontation before anyone else could get hurt. The arrow shattered the rope of ice from which hung the room's massive chandelier, and the icy fixture crashed to the ground as Elsa tried desperately to get out of the way. The blow knocked her from her feet, and as her head slammed into the ice, everything snapped to black.-_

The memory faded, and Hans knew from Elsa's expression that she had 'seen' the same thing. For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then, Elsa turned away, wringing her hands. "…Why?" she asked finally.

"What?"

"Why did you save my life? It would have worked out perfectly for you. I would have been dead, the kingdom would have been yours, and you wouldn't have been to blame… why would you go against your own plan?"

"My plan," he said with a sigh. He struggled to find some way to answer for a moment, before he decided that being honest was the least he owed her. "Elsa… you have to understand, I didn't… I didn't make the decision to kill you all at once. I must have changed my mind at least a dozen times." He shook his head. "It wasn't even the plan in the beginning; I didn't come here with the intent to kill you- actually, I came to court you. After all, marry a queen, become a king, that was the idea." He paused, and then continued softly, "…But when Anna so willingly gave me a clear path to the throne, I started to think about what that path would require. At first I rejected the idea, but… the closer I got and the more things ran out of control, the more it made sense- well, I thought it made sense, and…" He shook his head.

"But why did you _save me?"_ she pressed. She had to know. Had to.

"Truthfully, Elsa? I was afraid," he said wearily. "I'd never… killed… anyone before, and- and when I saw them about to harm you, I panicked. I wish I could tell you it was something good or honorable, but… it was just impulse. I had no reason for saving your life other than that, in that moment, I didn't want you to die." He took a shaking breath, and then it all spilled out- everything he'd wanted to say since the moment he'd seen her in the throne room. "Elsa, I regret what I did you and your sister with every fiber of my being. And I know I have no right to ask you this, but- do you think there's any chance, that you may ever be able to find it in your heart to forgive me?"

She didn't answer. His throat convulsed. "Elsa?"

"Get out," she whispered.

"What?"

"Get out of my castle. Now."

She heard him let out a low breath, crushed. "…Yes. Of course," he said quietly. There was the sound of footsteps as he walked through the hall and down the stairs, and then a great creak as the doors opened and closed again.

Elsa tried to keep away the memories, the accusing thoughts, but she was powerless against them. They swarmed in her head like angry bees, stinging her again and again. _Good people don't commit murder, _the little voice quoted tauntingly, in this very room where she had been so close to becoming no different from him. _They just don't. Isn't that right, Elsa?_

She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose with a shaking hand. The snow began to blow around her, swirling and bitter, and she didn't bother to stop it. Too much. It was all just too much…

Outside, Hans closed the door to the castle and stood on the doorstep. Leaning against the door, he unknowingly copied Elsa's gesture. "You fool, you fool," he muttered to himself, expression pained. "When will you-"

"-ever learn?" Elsa demanded of herself, voice lost in the winds.

Unbeknownst to the other, each sighed and put their hand down at their side.

_"You ruin everything you touch."_

* * *

**A/N: *Guadete Sunday: the third Sunday of advent, typically marked by rose decorations and rose robes for the priest.**

**An early update for you folks! Poor Elsa and Hans; they just can't seem to get it right. Please, t****ell me what you thought! All constructive criticism is appreciated!**

**On a side note, today is the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. Fellow Catholics, you know what to do. ; )**


	21. Chapter 19: Life's Too Short

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: More than hundred reviews, folks! You guys totally made my day; thank you so much! Bless you all for your wonderful generosity. : )**

**Warning to Kristanna shippers: this chapter will be sad. *Winces* Sorry.**

* * *

The _knock-knock kn-knock knock_ pattern told Kristoff exactly who was at his door. Seeing as his plan to discuss his concerns about the marriage with Elsa hadn't worked out, he was incredibly wary of meeting his fiancé, especially alone. Still, he couldn't just sit here forever and hope she went away, so he stood up and blew out a sigh, taking off his glasses.

When he opened the door uncomfortably, Anna was standing there, biting her lip. "Hey," she said, offering him a smile. "Can, um, can I come in?"

"Uh-" He didn't know what to say. While he couldn't ignore the fact that Anna was indeed a princess and he was anything _but_ royalty, he also knew that he'd spent a good six days hardly seeing her, and honestly? He missed her like _crazy._ "Sure, come in."

Anna walked inside, hands clasped as she looked around. "So, um… how're you doing?"

"Great," he lied instantly. "Great. Uh, and you?"

"Fine," she said quickly. "I'm just… fine."

An awkward silence passed.

"So, um, what're you working on?" Anna said finally, flouncing over to his desk.

"Grain report," he answered.

"Wow; you're almost done," she said, peering at it in surprise.

"Yeah, I've had a lot of free time…" He trailed off.

More silence.

Anna sighed, turning to face him. "Kristoff, I'm sorry; I know I've sort of been a pest lately."

"What? No, no, you're not a- it's my problem, Anna; I've just been really busy," he offered.

"Are you busy right now? I mean, if you are, I can leave-"

"No," he said quickly, though part of him hated himself for it. Now that she was here, he couldn't stand to tear himself away. "No, don't go. I'm not busy."

"Oh, good," she said, with obvious relief. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk or something?"

She was so darn adorable that he couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, that'd be great."

Anna smiled back. "_I just came to say today,_

_Let's give us a fresh start._

_And now that you're like "wow," it's all like,_

_Warm in the heart."_

"**It's great that you're here, y'know,**

'**Cause I've got to agree.**

**There shouldn't be a door that's stuck**

**Between you and me."**

"_We've been falling out for way too long,_

_So let's forget who's right,"_

"**And forget who's wrong,"** he finished.

"_**Okay,"**_ they both agreed.

"**I gotta say,"** Kristoff added,

"**We should never make this our last resort."**

"'_**Cause life's too short."**_

"_To always feel angry and confused_

_At the man that I love to know,"_ Anna said with a grin, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"_**Life's too short."**_

"**To always get so caught up in life**

**That love ends up on the back row," **he agreed, taking her hand in his and spinning her.

"_Oh-whoa-ho-ho!"_ she laughed._ "I never understood-_

"**I never understood-"**

"_**But now I do,"**_ they said in unison.

"_**Life's too short**_

_**To give up on a friendship like you."**_

"Just let me get my coat," Kristoff said, reaching for the gray fur tunic.

"You're wearing that?" Anna said, surprised.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well just wait a moment, I wanna see…" She headed towards his wardrobe.

"Is there something wrong with how I dress?" Kristoff asked, sounding a little offended.

"There's nothing _wrong_ with it; I'm just saying something else would probably match better, since you're still in your church clothes…" she said, poking her tongue through her lips as she opened the doors.

Kristoff stared. Then, his stare narrowed into a glare. "I can't believe you."

Anna turned around, surprised. "What? I just thought-"

"**Well I don't need your advice,"** he snapped.

"**Can't you just give it a rest?"**

"_What?"_ Anna was baffled._ "I'm just trying to help._

_Isn't that for the best?"_

"**So what, I'm just a dog**

**That you think has to be trained?"**

"_Hold on!"_ she argued.

"_That's not what I said;_

_Let's get back on the same page."_

"**Gee thanks for the support, y'know,**

'**Cause that's just great," **Kristoff said sarcastically.

"**As if I didn't have enough**

**Without this on my plate.**

**Don't worry! I get the message:**

**It's clear I don't belong in your court.**

**Goodbye-"** He brushed past her.

"_Wait!"_

"'**Cause life's too-"**

"_There it is!"_ she cried furiously.

"_Your own self-serving sense of pride!  
You know, last time I checked,_

_I was on your side!_

_Shut me out if you will,_

_But between me and you,_

_I think it would help if you_

_Would just get a clue!"_

Kristoff's eyes snapped wide, and he whirled around. **"You can think whatever you want**

'**Cause I don't care!"** he snapped.

"**You're a fool who married a stranger!"**

Anna gasped. _"That is so unfair!"_

"_**I swear!"**_ they shouted,

"_**I'm through with taking your unshaking, unwavering**_

_**Support-"**_

"_Support-"_

"**Support-"**

"_**HA!**_

'_**Cause life's too short-"**_

"_To care when you go off and shut me out,_

_Since apparently you're too thick to see!"_ Anna yelled, throwing up her arms angrily.

"_**Life's too short-"**_

"**To listen to a reckless fool**

**Who only ever sees the things she wants to see!"** Kristoff retorted.

"_You don't know-"_

"**You have no idea-"**

"_**What I've been through,"**_ they both spat, and then pointed at the other,

"_**Because of you!**_

_**Life's too short to waste another minute!**_

_**Life's too short to even have you in it!**_

_**LIFE'S TOO SHORT!"**_

"_I can't believe I thought you were ready for this kind of responsibility!"_ Anna said furiously.

"**Responsibility?" **Kristoff demanded.** "You wouldn't know responsibility if it jumped up and bit you in the nose!"**

"_Maybe we shouldn't get married!"_

"**Maybe we shouldn't!"**

The two stared at each other, stunned speechless. Finally, Kristoff muttered, "I should go." He turned and headed for the hall.

"Kristoff," Anna started, voice breaking, but he was already gone, leaving the door open behind him.

* * *

"And then she just _chews me out,_ like I was the one being ridiculous!" Kristoff said furiously.

Sven looked at him sympathetically while his master continued to rant. "Thick, irresponsible- she may as well have called me a stupid, bumbling, uncultured oaf not fit to be prince-"

He stopped, realizing what he was saying. _Run the kingdom into the ground._ "…But isn't she right?" he asked himself quietly. "Maybe she finally figured it out, that I'm just… just _nothing."_

Sven snorted in opposition, and Kristoff filled in for what the reindeer couldn't say himself. _"Don't talk like that!"_

"But it's true, buddy," Kristoff sighed, leaning his back against the reindeer dejectedly. "I _am_ just some nothing-peasant who happened to be in the right place at the right time."

_"Isn't that called fate?"_

"Fate, destiny- or really bad luck," he replied glumly. "If I hadn't gone to Oaken's that day, I'd still be just some guy with a reindeer and a sled. I'm not a _prince,_ Sven. And I never will be. Anna… Anna deserves her prince charming, not some ice harvester pretending to be royalty."

_"So what are you going to do?"_

Kristoff looked over at the reindeer and didn't answer.

* * *

"And then he says I can't handle responsibility, and he just _leaves!"_ Anna said angrily, gesturing dramatically. She flopped down on the green couch and sighed. "What do you think I should do?"

She looked up imploringly, but Joan didn't speak back. Anna sighed. "I can't believe he said he didn't want to get married. I mean, I said it, too, but I didn't really mean that… right?"

Anna fell silent for several seconds, before she said softly, "But… why would I say that if I didn't mean it? Why would _he_ say it?" Her mind flew back to how angrily he'd reacted to her suggestion of the jacket instead of his tunic, and she sat up. "Was I nagging him? Is that what I'd be like as a wife?" she wondered aloud. "What if… what if we were right? I mean, if being married to me is just going to make him miserable…"

It was such an awful thought, that she might not marry Kristoff- _Kristoff,_ who she loved more than anyone and anything in the whole world- that it made her stomach drop. But it was an even more awful thought that she might make him unhappy for the rest of his life.

It took more self-will than she'd ever had to use, but whenever she pictured his face (his kind, sweet face), browbeaten and depressed because of _her,_ the truth became painfully clear. "I know what I have to do."

* * *

The sun had fallen over the northern country, and five-o-clock found Kristoff sitting in a pile of hay in the royal stables. His lute sat unused beside him, and his expression was one of dull dread.

"Hi."

He looked over. Anna was standing in the stable doorway, hands clasped uncomfortably. Kristoff looked away. "Hey."

"Can I come in?"

He shrugged, which she took to mean yes. She walked over and sat down beside him in the hay. For a long while, neither said anything.

Finally, Anna sighed. "We need to talk, don't we?"

"Yeah," he agreed tiredly. "Anna… I've been thinking. About… about the argument we had today."

"Me too," she said quietly.

"I thought that, after I cooled down, I'd regret, you know…" He trailed off. "But… what if… what if we're right? What if…"

"…We shouldn't get married?" Anna finished.

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither could bear to answer.

"Do you…?" Anna said finally, trailing off.

"Do you?" he asked in reply.

She bit her lip so hard blood welled up, but it didn't stop the tears from brimming in her eyes. "Maybe," she whispered hoarsely. "Maybe… that's what's for the best."

His heart broke at that, but he knew she was right. So Anna _had_ realized, then, how much of a deadweight he was to her, how totally incompetent he'd be in a royal court. "Maybe," he agreed quietly. _I don't belong in your world._

"I mean, marriage, that's… that's huge," she said, voice almost begging. "And I thought we were ready, I thought _I_ was ready, but now…" _But now, what if I'm wrong? What if I'll only hurt you or our kids? I don't want to hurt you, Kristoff._

"This just… isn't going to work, is it?" he said finally, looking over at her.

Her face twisted into a grimace, and the tears ran down her cheeks. "I don't want to lose you."

"And I don't want to lose you, but- if this isn't heading towards marriage, what's it heading towards?"

And they both were smart enough to know the answer to that. They couldn't go back to being "just boyfriend-girlfriend." And they couldn't stay engaged forever. If marriage wasn't at the end of this line… then the only thing left was a big, fat _nothing._

Anna swallowed. "…What do we do?"

Kristoff sighed, trying to think. After a minute, he answered, "…We need to call off the wedding."

"We can't put any more stress on Elsa; she's dealing with enough as it is," Anna protested.

"Alright, then we'll tell her once Hans has gone," he decided. Anna nodded at this, not speaking.

For a long, long time, they just sat there in the hay, Anna crying silently, Kristoff hardly moving. Finally, the mountain man said dully, "I won't force you to see me around for a while, Anna. I'll make some excuse and go out tomorrow- check on my guys in the mountains, stay there for a week or so. I just… I don't want to make this any harder on you than this has to be."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Yeah. 'Course."

There was another silence, shorter this time, and then Anna stood up. "Okay. Um…" She didn't know what to say, other than an exhausted, "…Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He didn't watch her go. He didn't want to see that. But when the stable door shut with a quiet click, he closed his eyes tight with a grimace and leaned his head back against the post.

No one who knew Kristoff Bjorgman would ever have said that he was the crying sort of man. And so no one could have guessed that the quiet, shuddering gasps coming from the inside of the royal stables could possibly have belonged to him.

* * *

**A/N: *Winces again* …I said I was sorry, right? Please don't kill me! I'm a huge Kristanna shipper myself, so this broke my heart, too.**

**I know it was a sad chapter; next week's will be a little more upbeat, I promise. Pax et bonum, lovelies!**


	22. Chapter 20: Separations

Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: Alright, folks, this is pretty long chapter; I hope you enjoy it! As a note, the song that the boys are singing in Agnar's memory is "Nul ar det Jul Igen," a common Danish children's carol. A video can be found here:**

** www. youtube watch?v=Rf3d1srLhqc**

**Also, the lullaby I imagine Kristoff singing is this one here (although it is a woman singing it in the video):**

** www. youtube watch?v=vSfkeTpXYhE**

**(Remove spaces for both; add in the dot-com-slash after "youtube.") Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

The castle was dead quiet, the walls lit faintly by the crescent moon outside the shuttered windows. Along the patterned carpets crept a lone figure, footsteps nearly silent and breath inaudible.

King Agnar took care to walk with precision, avoiding hardwood floors as much as he was able for fear of them squeaking and trying to step lightly as he passed by the guest rooms. Despite his caution, however, the greater part of his mind was devoted to thought.

This now was two shards collected; the second was a blazing crimson like his own, glowing so brightly he was almost afraid the pair would melt the little silver box from the inside out. The king was still not permitted to take use of the shard he had been lent, and this irritated him greatly. He did not enjoy being told when and how to use what was rightfully his. It was, perhaps, a habit; after all, until his father's death, he had been practically forced to beg from the king for even a few gold coins to use to his own amusement. His father was never a generous man by any means; strict and stingy he'd been, and loathe to let go of even a single copper øre. His mother, on the other hand, had been nothing but generous; unlike many of the court ladies, she had never been too proud to wear the same dress twice, and in fact rarely bought new clothes at all. Though the king had granted her a monthly allowance, Agnar couldn't recall a single instance in which she'd spent it on novelties or trivial matters; instead, she'd donated nearly every krone to feeding and caring for the poor of the area. She had been known far and wide for her generosity and kind disposition, especially around Christmastide.

Christmastide… it had always been her favorite time of the year. A memory flitted itself through his mind, and a fond smile he could not keep from touching the corners of his lips.

"_-Men det var inte sant _

_Och det var inte sant _

_För däremellan kommer fasta!"_

_ The family broke into applause and laughter, Agnar included. His mother glanced back from her position at the piano and smiled, emerald eyes sparkling. _

_ "Beautiful as always, mother," the crown prince said, standing to walk over beside her._

_ "Uh-huh!" a little voice piped up. Agnar glanced back and found he was looking at a pair of spring-green eyes. It was the youngest of his brothers, little Hans, who was sitting happily at the foot of the Christmas tree. "You play very good, Mama."_

_"You mean, 'you play very well,'" the queen admonished kindly. The boy grinned toothily and nodded. "Alright, what shall I play next?"_

_ "Deilig er Jorden!" the cry was unanimous from the children, with the youngest of the voices the loudest. Agnar smiled as his mother flipped the pages of the old music book._

_ "One, two," his mother murmured, and then started in._ _"Deilig er jorden,_

_Prektig er Guds himmel,_

_Skjønn er sjelenes pilgrimsg-"_

_ Her voice broke off oddly as she struck a strange chord, and Agnar glanced over. "Mother?"_

_ The queen had ceased to play and was staring off disjointedly, her mouth open. Her hands were shaking on the keys. "Mother, are you alright?" Agnar asked, concerned._

_ Her green eyes flicked to his. For a moment, they locked, and then she let out a little gasp, and swooned backwards off the bench._

_ "Mother!" He caught her before she could strike the ground. Her eyes were closed, her skin felt cool to the touch. The prince hurriedly searched for a pulse, his own heart pounding. T__he others were panicking; they crowded around and shouted in alarm, unsure of what to do._

_"__Mama!" a terrified voice shrieked over the din. Agnar looked up and saw a frantic Hans kneeling across from him, grasping at the queen's wrist with white-gloved hands. "Mama, you're scaring me, wake up!"_

_ Her eyes fluttered open, dazed. "Hans…?"_

_"Mother, what happened?" Agnar demanded._

_"I- I don't feel well, I..."_

_ "Helge, get Father," he ordered. "Gunnar, find the court physician!" _

_ His mother gripped at his hands weakly, and Agnar found that he had to fight to keep his own from shaking. "It's alright," he found himself saying automatically, "You'll be alright, Mother, just hold on…"_

The smile had faded from his face. Yes, that was the day she'd fallen ill. After that, she'd been confined to bed for weeks on end, until when, on the dawn of Christmas Day… His hands curled into fists. His mother had been the one bright spot in an otherwise unhappy childhood. And that one good thing, that one _perfect_ part of all his life, had been _stolen_ from him by a worthless, runty _thief-_

"Hello!"

He jumped about two feet in the air and whirled around, clutching at his chest. A small, lumpy _something_ was moving towards him. As it stepped into a chink of moonlight, the southern king let out a low sigh, still breathing like a bull. It was just the queen's strange snow-creation. "I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!" the snowman said with outstretched arms and a grin twice as wide.

"You," the king muttered, putting his hand down. "Don't you sleep?"

"Oh no, I can't," the thing- Olaf- said cheerfully. "I just sort of wander the castle at night, watch people sleep, that sort of thing."

The king raised an eyebrow. _Creepy._ "…I see."

"So! Where're ya headed, huh?"

"Er- out. To meet a friend."

"Oh, I have lots of friends!" Olaf said happily. "I'm friends with Anna and Elsa and Kristoff and Sven and Hans-"

"Hans?" Agnar interrupted, snorting condescendingly. "Who would want to be acquainted with him?"

"Well, I would! Hey," said the snowman, as an idea dawned on him. "Would you like to be friends, too?"

The king stared, and then said curtly, "No, I would not. Now if you'll excuse me." He continued down the hall.

"Oh," Olaf said from behind him, sounding a little hurt. "Well… maybe another time, huh?"

Agnar rounded the corner without answering, leaving the snowman to stand there, baffled.

* * *

"I must say, I'm impressed," the Snow Queen said. They had met again in the forest just outside of town, away from prying eyes and ears.

"That's two," Agnar said, as he handed over a brilliant scarlet glass shard. "I suppose now I'm allowed my part of the deal?"

"Patience, your Majesty, patience. It's a virtue, after all." She locked the shard inside an ice case and tucked it inside her white cloak. "One shard remains to be found. Tell me, how did you come across this one?"

"I felt my own burn and followed it. As to further reasoning, I cannot provide."

"Hm," she said pensively, arching a perfectly formed eyebrow. "Perhaps your brother and the Queen have finally come at odds with each other. But you must continue with your efforts."

"Naturally."

"Good day, King Agnar."

"Your Majesty." At his farewell, she climbed into her icy sleigh, and within an instant had disappeared into the trees.

Agnar's face was set into a sneer. "One more shard," he muttered to himself. "And if she doesn't allow me my due then…" He stalked off through the trees, the night air silent save for the crackle of snow beneath his boots.

* * *

Breakfast in the dining hall that morning was anything but comfortable. Kristoff and Anna didn't speak or even look at each other, nor did Hans and Elsa. Silence reigned over the four like a different sort of curse, until finally Kristoff (who had been wolfing down his oatmeal in an effort to get out of the room faster) pushed his bowl away and stood up. "Okay, well, I'm heading out."

"Heading out?" Elsa said in surprise, looking up from her own hardly-touched bowl of oatmeal. "Out to where?"

"I, uh, I'm going to check on my guys in the mountains," Kristoff explained awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I'd stay up there for a bit, y'know, since it's the last week of the season…"

"How long will you be gone?" the Queen inquired.

"Um, a few days, probably more like a week…" He shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

Any other time, Elsa would have seen the strangeness of this, but right then, all she saw was an opportunity. "A whole week! Well, that's- that's very interesting." She glanced over at Hans. "Perhaps you'd like to go with him?"

Kristoff's mouth dropped open, and he scoffed. "I don't think a pampered prince is going to want to work the ice floes for a week."

"Actually, I'd like to come," Hans said hurriedly. "I don't mind hard work; I think it would be a very, er, educational experience."

The mountain man stared between the two, confused. _"You_ want to come _harvest ice?"_ he said dubiously.

"I would be much obliged," the prince answered, with apparent sincerity.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you can find something better to do," Kristoff said dismissively.

"Kristoff, can I please talk to you?" Elsa said, voice almost pleading. "Alone?"

Completely baffled, Kristoff followed her as she walked over to a corner of the room. "Kristoff, I need him out of the castle," the queen confessed. "I need you to take him with you."

"Why?"

"I-" She broke off, and then finished, "I can't tell you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Please, Kristoff," she nearly begged, clasping her hands with a desperate wince. "I really need you to do this, no questions asked. As a favor."

Kristoff held out for another moment, and then sighed. "Alright, fine. But you owe me one, Elsa."

"Thank you," she said, with obvious relief. "And if you ever need a favor…"

"Yeah, I know." He turned back to the table, where Anna was still staring at her porridge bowl, Hans sitting there awkwardly. "C'mon," he grunted.

"Me?" Hans said, surprised.

"No, the other psychotic prince in your general direction. Yeah, you. We're leaving."

Hans quickly clambered to his feet. "I need to grab my coat-"

"Fine, make it fast. Meet me down at the stables." He walked- well, more like stalked- out of the room, Hans quickly departing thereafter.

Elsa walked over to Anna, who was still staring dully down at her oatmeal. The Queen noticed she hadn't taken a bite. "Anna?" she inquired, a little worried. "Are you alright?"

"What?" The princess looked up, startled out of her stupor. "Oh, um, yeah. Fine. Sorry; I'm just pretty tired."

"Oh." She offered her baby sister a smile. "Well… maybe you should take a nap?"

Anna nodded and stood up. "Yeah. Yeah, a nap sounds good…" She wandered out of the dining hall in a dazed sort of manner, leaving Elsa to sit alone. The queen rubbed her temples and sighed. He was gone, at least for a week. She wouldn't have to see his face until Sunday.

And some part of her hated herself for feeling depressed about that fact.

* * *

_Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop. Clip… clop._

Three-thousand, six hundred and four. That was how many seconds had passed between when Kristoff and Hans had first climbed into the sleigh and where they were now, which was some distance from the town and surrounded by thick evergreen trees, by now covered in a thick, fluffy winter snow. Hans knew the number of seconds because they corresponded exactly with Sven's hoof-steps, which were the only sound that anyone, including the reindeer, had made since they'd set out on this little misadventure.

Great. He'd just lost count. Looked like he'd have to start all over again. _One. Two-_

"Carrot?"

He started at the sudden noise and looked over. Kristoff was holding out one of the carrots from the bag he'd brought along. "No, thank you," he said, looking back out at the trail.

"Aw, come on. I've got like a dozen of them."

Hans sighed a little, his breath freezing to fog in the air. "Fine." He took the carrot and bit off the end, before looking down. There were little dents in the vegetable. "What are the marks?" he inquired, frowning.

"Oh, Sven was nibbling on it earlier. Those are from his teeth."

Hans choked and spat out the bite he'd taken. Kristoff grinned, and the auburn-haired man scowled at him. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"You bet." He took the carrot back and tossed it out in front. Sven jerked the sleigh forward a little to catch the carrot before it fell in the snow.

A little while passed again in silence, before Hans asked, "How far until we reach the river?"

"Eh, not too far now, maybe an hour or so. Why?"

"No reason." There was a reason, actually; he was bitterly cold. While he'd donned his heavy gray winter coat, he wasn't used to such frigid weather. The Southern Isles never saw this much snow, and in any case, he'd always hated the cold. The wind was picking up, as well, and he hadn't had the good sense to grab a hat before they'd left, which left him feeling more like one of Elsa's ice-blocks than a human being. But Hell would have to freeze over too before he'd admit that to Kristoff.

The mountain man glanced over and noticed the way the prince was curling his fingers in and out, trying to regain circulation. "Your fingers gone numb yet?"

"I assumed that was supposed to happen," Hans replied evenly, although in truth the parts of his fingers that hadn't lost all feeling hurt like the dickens.

"I wouldn't say 'supposed to.' It's pretty cold out. Those gloves look like thin leather; they won't cut the wind and their insulation's probably terrible. And that wool coat will never work; it'll get soaked and you'll half freeze to death before the day's up. You need something that'll wick the water off."

"What do you suggest?" the prince said, trying not to let the edge of annoyance into his voice.

"I've got an extra tunic and some gloves in the back," Kristoff said, sounding none-too-happy about lending the prince his clothes. "Grab those."

Hans did as he was told, reaching into the back of the sled and unbuttoning his coat. He shrugged it off and replaced it with the gray fur tunic, cinching the cords at the top up tight in an effort to reduce the chill. It actually worked. The gloves were fingerless leather choppers, coated in some sort of oily substance to stop the water from soaking through. Both were warmer than his provisions, and grudgingly he said, "Astute advice, Mr. Bjorgman. My thanks."

"Oh for crying out loud," Kristoff grumbled. "I'll never be able to make it through this week if you don't cut that out."

"Beg your pardon?"

"That! That right there!" he exclaimed. "Your- your high-falutin' words or whatever."

Hans blinked. "Do you mean the way I speak?"

"Yeah, obviously. Just talk like a normal person, wouldja?"

"Oh." He considered this for a moment, and then admitted, "I'm not sure that I could."

"What do you mean?"

"This is how I've always talked."

Kristoff scoffed. "Oh come on. No one's born talking like that."

"No, that is to say- I mean, I was taught to speak like this, since I was a child. It was part of my education."

"Really?" he looked over, looking a little interested. "You mean they teach you at some sort of royalty school how to talk like that?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hans said, a little pompously if truth were told. "I had a tutor."

"A tutor?"

"Yes, to learn grammar. I had another for arithmetic, another for science, one for etiquette, one for strategic thinking and one for swordsmanship. I had a few others who taught me foreign languages, as well."

"No kidding," Kristoff said, whistling. "How long did it take you to learn all that stuff?"

"Well, eight hours a day for twelve years or so would be…" He started to do the math in his head.

"No, don't tell me, I get it. Seriously though, eight hours a day? That must've sucked."

Hans raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it did 'suck.' My grammar teacher was by far the worst, however."

"Yeah? How come?"

"He spit."

Kristoff snorted against his will. "That's great. I mean really, that's fantastic."

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"Did you receive any formal education?"

The mountain man shrugged. "My family taught me some stuff."

"Your family, the colony of rock trolls," Hans deadpanned.

Kristoff grinned. "That's the one. Besides, you don't really need the rest of it for my business. I learned how to read an' write, do math, that sort of thing. But I know the important stuff, the kind you don't learn from a tutor or whatever."

The prince looked confused by this. "Such as?"

"Oh, you know. Like if a river's iced over enough for you to walk on it and not fall through; which plants are poisonous to humans- and reindeer," he said fondly, smacking the reins lightly. Sven looked back and gave him a very reindeer-y smile. "When the beavers will be finished making their dams or how old a fawn is based on its spots. That sort of stuff."

Hans said nothing for a moment, and then reluctantly admitted, "Mr. Bjorgman, I… must say I am impressed. All of that is entirely foreign knowledge to me."

"No kidding?" he said, glancing over. "Well… two different kinds of knowledge, I guess."

Hans gave a brief nod, and they didn't speak again for several minutes. But despite this, Kristoff eventually reached back into the bag and retrieved another carrot, this one without gnaw marks, and handed it to him.

Hans took it with something like an ironic smile and bit into the vegetable. Perhaps spending a week with the mountain man wouldn't be such a horrific ordeal, after all.

* * *

The hour had unfortunately turned into two, due to a tree which had fallen in the way of the path and had caused both men to hop out of the sleigh to remove it before continuing on their way. They reached the iced-over river a little after noon. Kristoff pulled Sven to a halt and hopped out of the sleigh, raising a hand. "Hey!"

Several of the ice-harvesters looked over and shouted out their own greetings. Kristoff hurried over with a grin, Hans following at a distance nervously. "How're you guys doing?" Kristoff said, walking from man to man. "Hey, Ole; how's Per?"

"See for yourself; he came with this time," the other man answered with a chuckle, indicating a young, brown-haired boy at his side.

"Ah, learning the trade, huh?" Kristoff said with a grin, ruffling the kid's hair. "Heya, Morten. How's the wife doing?"

"Eh, well enough, well enough. I'll happy to get back to her soon. Just came up to see our ugly mugs, didja?"

"Nah; the Queen says there's a storm coming in and she can't send it away," Kristoff explained. "Be here by Sunday evening, next Monday at latest."

One of the men shrugged. "Probably for the better, anyway; the season's coming to an end."

"Yeah, and- wait, who's he?" the one named Ole said, nodding past Kristoff to the redhead standing some ways away.

Hans's mouth opened, but he wasn't sure how exactly to introduce himself. He didn't have to. Morten squinted and said, "Hey, isn't he-"

"Yeah!" one of the other said, voice angry. "He's the one who-"

"Tried to kill the queen!"

Hans didn't bother saying anything in his own defense, having realized that such an act would be futile and that he may have made a terrible mistake by coming with Kristoff that day. Several of the men (all of whom were very loyal to the queen who kindly kept the weather conducive to ice-harvesting) started towards him angrily, but Kristoff stepped in between them. "Alright, guys, hold on," he said, holding up his hands. "Trust me, I want to knock his teeth in as much a you do, but I'm sure Elsa doesn't want her fiancé coming back all black and blue."

Grudgingly they acquiesced to this, though Hans could still feel the glowering looks they shot him as they returned to their work. "So," the prince said, once he was fairly certain no one was about to attack him with an ice pick, "How do we do this?"

Kristoff had retrieved his saw, pick and clamps from the sleigh and was preparing to saw through the ice that had covered the river top. "Look," he said seriously. "This isn't a holiday; people who don't know what they're doing out here can get really hurt."

"Understood."

"Today I want you to watch _everything_ the other guys and I do. Pay attention. If we say do something, do it. If we say stop something, stop _immediately._ Then maybe tomorrow I'll _think_ about giving you a try. Got it?"

Hans nodded and retreated just a few feet away, doing as instructed. Over the course of the next seven hours, he learned several things about the ice harvesters, not just how to do the work they did by also about the way in which they did it.

First off, they sang. Hans was pleasantly surprised by that development. The music was rhythmic and easy enough to learn, similar in tune and purpose to the sea shanties he'd learned during his two-year stint in the navy, keeping them from growing tired or slow in their work. This was good, considering that as tedious as the job was, one could afford to waste no time.

Second, they were hard workers. The manual labor was clearly strenuous, but they kept at it all day and even past sundown, lighting greenish-yellow lanterns to help them work in the fading light. After first scoring the ground to mark off what part of the river they had to cut, the men labored tirelessly to remove the top layer of snow which had built up over the ice. This, Kristoff mentioned to the prince, would take all of the first day, and then this was only the first section of river. Once the snow had been removed, they could finally get at the clear, solid ice underneath.

Third and perhaps most importantly, they were fair, honest sort of people. It had been clear from the moment Hans had arrived that any one of them would have loved to give him a nice shiner or two to the eye, but that reflected their stout sense of justice far more than detracted from it. When dinnertime rolled around (long after the sun had disappeared behind the western mountains), Hans had been expecting some sort of reflection of their dislike for him in the food distribution- perhaps the cook would fill his chipped wooden bowl far less than everyone else's, or someone would knock his stew to the ground to ruin it. Much to his surprise, no one attempted any such thing, and he suspected it had as much to do with their code of ideals as Kristoff's grudging protection. When he sat down at one of the spots near the warm fires where the men ate their food and talked over the day's work, he found that, aside from the occasional dirty look, they weren't deliberately unkind to him, but rather instead ignored him. At one point this would have bothered the prince, but in recent months he had learned to count his blessings, and truth be told he really couldn't blame them for their silence. _I probably wouldn't know what to say to me, either,_ he thought ruefully

The men had all set up tents along the banks of the river, and with Hans's help Kristoff set up his own. The reindeer- Sven, he thought his name was- also took shelter from the elements in the canvas structure, separating two makeshift cots. The tent was crowded but surprisingly warm, despite the frigid night air outside.

Kristoff placed the lit lantern on the ground in front of Sven's nose, casting the tent in a warm, flickering glow, and pulled his fur tunic off over his head. He placed it at the foot of his cot and picked up his lute as Hans pulled off his borrowed clothes and lay down. The iceman strummed the lute lazily, plucking the chords with no apparent correlation. As Hans listened, however, Kristoff seemed to be murmuring tiredly in a language the prince didn't recognize. "What is that?" he asked.

"Huh?" Kristoff stopped singing, startled. "Oh. It's just an old lullaby. My ma used to sing it to me."

"What language is it in?"

"Lapland language. Sami language. Whatever you want to call it."

Hans sat up on the side of his cot, interested. "Do you know what you're saying?"

Kristoff shrugged. "Yeah, most of it. I'm pretty rusty though; I haven't spoken it with anyone but Sven for a long time."

"Did your parents teach you?"

"Must've; otherwise I couldn't speak it, right? Ma did, probably. Like I said, she was half-Laplander."

"You refer to them in the past tense," Hans noted carefully.

Kristoff looked over at him sharply, but when he saw that the man meant no offense, he nodded. "They, uh, they caught consumption when I was a kid," he admitted, turning away again. "So did I, but I recovered and… well, they didn't. The trolls took me in after that. I remember Ma the best; Pa died before she did. Good people, I think. Pa was a hard worker, anyway." He stopped short, and when he spoke again, his voice was clipped. "But I suppose you aren't interested in common people like them."

It was clear that he thought the prince was of the same opinion as the rest of the Arendellian court regarding his bloodline and occupation. Hans tried to find some way of denying it without seeming insincere. "…My mother died of illness, too," he settled on. "She was a good woman… she ran the town soup kitchens, while she was alive." The seeming change in topic startled Kristoff, who looked over again. "I was the youngest, so she often took me with her. Each morning, the town baker came in and gave us several of his rolls. He wasn't necessarily poor, but I knew he wasn't rich, either. I'm sure helping us cost him and I know he could have sold those rolls to make some extra money for himself… but every day, without fail, he brought the bread without asking for a word of thanks. My mother would turn to me and say, 'Hans, _ofte er skarlagens hjerte under reven kaabe-_ often beneath a tattered coat there lies a royal heart."

Kristoff's mouth was open slightly in surprise. The green-eyed man smiled slightly and lay back down. "Goodnight, Mr. Bjorgman."

"G'night," Kristoff said, leaning over to blow out the lantern. As the tent was once again shrouded in darkness, his face also changed, falling into an expression of dull, rueful irony. Hans probably hadn't meant to reopen a fresh wound, but that didn't mean it didn't sting.

A royal heart, indeed.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you all liked it; I know it was a long wait, but at least it was a fairly long chapter. Pax et bonum, friends!**


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